The Adventures of Mary Sue in Arda
by DCdaydreamer
Summary: The product of my silly little daydreams, my LOTR non-canon avatar... I can't stop tweaking and editing it just for fun, so it's a little changed from when I first posted.
1. Part One

It's been about twenty years since I first read The Hobbit followed by LOTR and fell completely head over heels down the rabbit hole into Tolkien's world and didn't want to come back out. Whenever I'm a big fan of any fiction I like to dream up a fun character for myself, I believe it's called the Mary Sue phenomenon (hence the title). I first wrote this many years ago (shortly after reading all of it) but had lost all record of it and had to redo it from memory when I finally decided to write it down again for Ss and Gs (just as well since I made many changes). I did take some artistic liberties such as giving the Greyflood a sizeable tributary, the nature of defeating the Balrog, and of course ten walkers instead of nine ;P ...But I still did my best to keep her as plausible as I could (while also indulging in giving her some superhero Mary Sue things to do), with an extensive backstory, a Hobbit-like adventure of her own, then finally weaving her into the canon (with some homage paid also to other influences like Disney, Jim Hensen, Greek myths, and Roger Lancelyn Green who inspired me to model her in part off Nimue Merlin's comrade of Avalon). It was tough to pick names especially for my root Valier character, but after seeing the name on a grocery cashier's tag decided to roll with it. Here goes nothin...

The Adventures of Mary Sue in Arda

Part One

~ When the World Was Young ~

Marya was a Valier, sister of Manwe and Melkor, though smaller and younger in a sense, as a newer bud below twin blooms all sharing a stem. In mood Marya was closer to the King, but in skill she was very like to Melkor in many ways, though she was the less powerful and was not ranked among the Aratar. She and Melkor both shared in all the special powers of the holy race, and like him she would also meddle in work that had been done, yet she did this not to destruct out of envy but to enhance and improve and refine such creations as her brethren made. Also like Melkor she was able to move concealed as a mist or storm, but as such over many things she would pass in watchful guardianship, for she was without pride and sought only to serve Iluvatar and the fulfillment of the Vision. But music she shared mostly with the Chief Powers, weaving and harmonizing their songs together, and so her focus was in all manner of storms, over which Manwe would often leave her in dominion, from bare blustering winds and blinding fogs of fine sand to nourishing downpours, from piles of snow creating great glaciers to hail and sleet and falls of pure lightning. The Great Flame she also had the power to wear and wield in certain ways. Her raiment as a one of the Children of Iluvatar would ever look very young, almost childlike, clad most often in dark green. At times she like her brethren could be frightening for the Children to behold, able to take form with water, wind, or fire.

Her temperament was both delicate yet adventurous, reserved and bold, and she walked ever a balanced line between the two sides. To Tulkas she was like in that she was of little avail as a counselor but a hardy friend, and she aspired to his fearlessness. In the shade of the realms of Orome and Yavanna she would take her respite, and was also known to trek alone about surrounding mountainsides, for she had a spirit to wander alone. Thus oft she wandered to places where the Chief Powers had once been, weaving and wielding wind, water, and earth in new ways as she went, filling streams and lakes and cutting cliffs and caves and valleys, as thoughts for such things came to her and took her fancy. She was also a sentry and scout and would at times pass as a cloud across the sky. In this way she helped set the stars of Varda in the firmament, and on occasion she would take to decorating the skies with clouds and rainbows for the delight of all who would see it.

At the darkening of Middle Earth when Melkor destroyed the Great Pillars, she had been roaming about the hills surrounding the Great Lake, and ran forth through the darkness, now lost and alone, amid the tumult and chaos and attacks by his servants. Wandering long in distress she came across some of Melkor's high servants rounding some among the Maiar for torment, corruption, and enslavement. Between alarm and desperation a fire came alight within and Marya charged forth like a flaming star had been set to roll upon the ground, casting lightning and torrents of wind and the captors fled. With the freed captives she found the others of their kind and moved on to settle the new realm in the West. Among these captives were both Olorin and Curunir, who were favored among the Valar, and others besides. In his gratitude Olorin would at times run messages for her across the Undying Realm to the great houses of the gods. It was she who later suggested Olorin to Manwe as most qualified to help the Children in their struggle against Sauron.

Then the Quendi had awoken and the rulers learned that Melkor had already begun endeavors to corrupt them, and the Aratar decided to act to end Melkor's quest to dominate all Middle-earth. Marya desired to join the Great War, but the king refused, deeming her power not strong enough to withstand attack by Melkor and his forces should she find herself alone. However remembering her valor in the rescue of their Maiar at the felling of the Great Pillars, Manwe set her in charge of a watchguard over Cuivienen.

This watch afterward continued through the great migration to Uttermost West, she once revealing herself to them when some grew fearful of abandonment by Orome. A small cloud of mist and light appeared from which a pale dark-haired young figure robed in green emerged. She spoke, urging them to take heart and not lose hope for the faithful of the Vala keep their promises. Afterward when they would hear the growls of fell creatures through the woods in the distance - the guard once even chasing off Gothmog himself - they would also then hear the winds howl in response and catch glimpses of bright flashes of light far off amid the trees until the clamor silenced, and they would know the guard remained. When she walked the marches round the settlements without raiment a strong breeze would pass through the trees, shaking their leaves like instruments of jingling bells. The Forest Guardians also knew her, for she rendered them protection also. From what little they saw of her the Elves called her Ainulewing and Hinohtarien.

In Valinor this watch continued about the hills encircling Valimar and the Two Trees, though after a time it became more relaxed since for long there was little threat to fear in the realm. But when Melkor was released from prison and his influence began to sow strife amongst the Eldar, Marya having some foreboding, and responding in kind to Feanor's labors to amass an armory, asked the smiths for shields, armor, and weapons for her and Maiar among the Guard when in raiment. This armor included a helm, small shield, set of vambraces, and an intricately woven and plated small cuirass, all made of steel overlaid with a bright white silver found only in the Pelori mountains, and edged with a yellow gold trim. Some of the Elves began asking for like gear in worry of war (and among these included a young Galadriel).

When the attack of Melkor and Ungoliant came from the south, nearly all in Valinor were in festival. But Marya who enjoyed solitude left after a while to wander about the hills. Much of guard had been relieved, but the Chief Guardian of the City who could not be persuaded to abandon the city watch was with her. Riding along the southern marches she stopped, her gaze fixed southward and her heart gripped by shadow, and she saw it: a vast plane of darkness passing swiftly over the land. She bade her comrade hurry to warn the rest and he raced off with all speed. Mounting her great steed of Orome she bore down speeding southwest, with naught but the sword and shield which were fixed to her horse's bags, and not much hope beyond buying time for warning to reach the others.

Marya saw the pair approaching fast, and the flame again kindled within. She dismounted and planted herself before them, remembering the destruction of the pillars over Lake Almaren of old, and she became a form of roaring white fire, drawing from the heart of the Earth, yet still bearing the sword and shield. Storm clouds gathered swiftly overhead to her mood and the wind gusted violently around her as they approached. Melkor cast his great spear at her, which pierced her shield and it split asunder. She faltered back at the blow, and the flame dimmed, but lightning struck down nearby around them. The princess stood back up and casting off the shield raised her sword, which itself was glowing brightly. "Melkor! Brother! Abandon this folly now and repent!" she cried, "You may yet find mercy."

To this Melkor sneered and gave a wicked laugh and the red fire in his eyes blazed, for in his hatred and malice he had grown very strong and judged her no match for him, and certainly not him and his accomplice together, though the Princess had not said at her hands would defeat or mercy come.

Ungoliant cast a web at her and Marya swung her sword, slashing at it. She cut it but was yet restrained, its great sticking fibers a crushing weight. The Great Spider cast again and it wrapped choking tight upon her. It weakened her, and her flame withered, still flickering faintly and phantom-like all about her as she was returned to her elf-like form. For the webs and the black mist that surrounded them all contained dark enchantments, most powerful with the aid of Melkor. The princess' fire still burned, and melted the fibers but not quickly enough, nor was she able to shed her raiment to escape. "Your doom will find you soon, brother," she whispered at the last. Melkor looked on her, the red gleam in his eyes like the reflection of dim embers on cold steel, and said nothing. Ungoliant came up and dug her beak in deep and fed. The holy fire burnt and pained the spider but still she hungered for it and kept consuming. The sword fell, and the fire went out.

The pair moved on, the message not delivered, and the Great Trees were felled. The spider's poison had left the Princess nearly slain, and very much looking so. The Guardian of the City, having been overtaken by their enemies, slowed and wandered listlessly in despair through the dark a while, but coming across her riderless horse turned back to find her. As the evil had passed he able to cut her loose with her own sword, and bore her forth in grief and laid her raiment form down by the pools of the trees. Then did Manwe feel all the more the bitterness of his decision to let Melkor wander freely. But Namo pronounced the king's sister was not dead, though very grievous was her injury, and she was bound to her raiment for a long while and cast into a deep sleep. In the gardens of Lorien she was tended by Este herself in her slumber.

Not until the first rising of the sun did Marya return to wake. Her spirit was deeply dampened and her powers muted, and she walked as one restrained and burdened with the cares of the world, lone among all in Valinor as one like to Mortals. In Lorien Este and Nienna both tried to counsel the princess, but she remained ever in mournful silence, as if she could not hear them. She began to wander the gardens, and they had hope of her recovery, but then one day she wandered far up into the heights of the western hills and did not return. In her isolation Marya took up residence in an old watchtower upon the outer hilltops between the regions of Nienna and Mandos. There she remained many years, gazing upon the Outer Sea. From her grief the tower and surrounding hills for many miles became shrouded in a thick and enchanted fog for years and none could find it, and only Namo could tell ought of her.

Manwe then grew worried for her path. Through her dense fog none knew quite how to locate the princess precisely, and Namo declared that a search was needed before her lonesome state led her astray, for she had more power left to her than she realized. For this young Olorin volunteered, for she had once rescued him from a tormented fate or worse. Orome who loved so the Mortals also felt pity for her, and offered two of his prized horses for the task.

"Take this," said the King as the Maia prepared to leave, holding out a small rod of silver. When held up it seemed to catch even the dimmest light and cast it about with a wondrous radiance, and to be near it one felt a peaceful strength come to the heart. "It is a piece of the Holy Mountain and cannot be marred by or wielded with evil. Aule who first pitied her isolated state mined and smelted it himself from a ribbon of silver found here in Ilmarin, and Ulmo smoothed it, and it was hallowed by myself and the Queen. It draws on the power of the Undying Lands and will help guide you through her mists, and it will help the princess recover her former strength. When you find my sister please offer it to her as a token of my desire for her to join us again here at court."

Olorin went to Lorien which he knew well, but upon setting forth into the western hills he continued on foot leading the horses behind him, for the terrain became covered in drizzling mists so thick he could not see past his outstretched hand. As he trudged along, feelings of confusion and loss and loneliness began to weigh heavy on his heart and the horses hung their heads low in the desolate gloom of the rolling lonely mountains. He clasped at the silver wand in its case, and somehow felt sure that without it he might descend quickly into a madness of grief and despair.

Trying to keep a westward course he wandered for many days, when at last he pulled out the wand from its little pouch and held it up and the fog cleared around him for a good half league. He was at last able to make out a foot path heading southwest, following many sets of ancient stairs cut from the hillsides, passing by wild brambles of thorny berry bushes and meadows of flowers and wild leeks growing among the tall grasses, and untended groves of orange and fig trees that flourished even up high on the hills in this warmer part of the realm. He reached the top of a great ridge as the sun began to set, and saw that he had reached the shores of the Outer Sea.

But the young Maia paused only a moment to gaze at its curious beauty as the sky grew dark. He held up the wand, which now not only cleared the mist but seemed to glow softly for him like a little lantern, the sight and feel of it in his hand and its light on his face brought him great cheer. He turned and followed the ridge southward. He walked for many miles, passing by rock springs that issued the waters which rolled down in waterfalls to feed the valley streams far below. The sun was returning in the east when he finally came upon a tower.

Opening the door easily, and he went in hoping it was the right one. He ascended the spiraling stairs to a wide room at the top. Dawn had now broken and the dark room began to lighten. Against the walls he saw a hearth with the charred remains of an old fire, a small table with a mirror and various items such as the elves might use, and a chair by a desk with a ceramic cup and scraps of fruit on a tarnished silver plate. Then on the far wall still in he could make out a small rudimentary bed, and another small window facing east which was still dim in the dawn light. With barely a sound the princess emerged from the shadows.

Though still fair, as any among the gods would be, she nevertheless looked no longer young and vibrant as a child but weary and careworn with time and grief. She looked at him for a long moment in disbelief. "What brings you here?" she finally said in a whisper.

"Greetings, Princess," he replied with a bow. "I bear a message from your brother the King. He desires that you return home and join him at court."

A pained look flashed across her face. "I cannot," she said quietly, casting down her gaze. "I failed. I am weakened." Part of her still feared the humiliation of being among the others, but in truth after all this time, she was glad of any company at all.

The sorrow in her voice pierced his heart. He shook his head. "Nay, Lady. We all failed. You at least did all you could," he answered, and he meant it, thinking of all the things so many others could have done differently. "Nor are you weakened. Clearly," he said, gesturing out the window to the dense and far reaching fog, "your strength has not completely left you."

She looked out in thought, as if she had not before stopped to consider that she might be the source of the gloom that clung to the hills.

He pulled out the case. "Here," he continued, holding it out with a small bow, "I was asked to give you this. Into it was wrought the love of the Valar. It draws on the power of the Undying Lands, and will help you regather the strength that dispersed from you."

She looked at him, wondering if such a thing could be possible. She took it and opened it, and stared amazed at the thin silver rod, no longer than her forearm.

"It would not be the source of your power, Lady, for that you still have, but with it you can gather and focus your strength anew."

Her gaze went back and forth between the messenger and the wand. "Why?" she whispered after a long silence.

"Your brother believes you can return to your highness among the gods, Lady." the Maia replied. "Please, you rescued me once, and I am forever in your debt. Let me help you now."

Her face softened. At once the breeze began to sing sweeter and the mists began to part. "I am happy to see you, old friend," she said with a sigh as she gazed out on the sea. She turned to him and after a long pause continued, "I would be happy to see my brother, also. I will go with you."

She took the wand from its case and held it up, and straight away she felt its power as her spirit lightened and her heart strengthened. The weariness on her face began to fade. She looked at the messenger and smiled. "You may consider your debt repaid. Come!" she said, and led the way out.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs the stretches of green hills could be seen for miles, and the clouds above began to break. The horses had picked up their heads and now neighed cheerily. Marya led them a more direct route eastward, down many more steps and worn old paths, and they reached the fair green plains of Lorien by sunset.

*.*.*

Marya remained with her brother for a while, dwelling for a time in Ilmarin upon Oiolosse. The mountain aided her healing, though she still bore the scar of Ungoliant's beak. But as her strength grew she returned to riding to the extent of Aman and in the shade of Orome's forest. At times she would wander along the shores of the Outer Sea, or even as far as the Outer Wall or high up on the outer Pelori mountains, and would wave to the great white ship of Earendil or the charioteers bearing the last fruit of the Great Trees as they passed. Eventually with the help of Aule and his Maiar and remaining Noldor she created a new abode upon a neighboring mountain in the Light Pass overlooking Tirion, closer to the ground, from which she could look both westward toward Valmar and eastward toward Tol Eressea.

Grieving for the plight of the Children of Iluvatar she would at times ask to go to Middle-earth but Manwe would forbid it. So she would remain with him up on the heights, watching the affairs of Elves and Men unfold.

Her full strength at length returned, all the stronger, for as the First Age waned Melkor's power through the gnawing fear in his malice was slowly faded whilst hers grew. Manwe would grant her leave to go forth from Valinor, but only unclad to help indirectly. So she would take to the skies, blanketing or clearing clouds and pushing winds and rains to the aid of battles. Sometimes she carried the little wand, and catching and casting the light of the sun or moon it would shimmer faintly like a flying star shining from behind midnight clouds. At times Ulmo would ask her to keep watch over those to whom he had given journeys to undertake. In times of relative peace she would walk among the Children unseen, to gaze at the wonders of the Elf kingdoms.

Then came the arrival of Earendil, and Manwe agreed to prepare for battle to relieve the sorrows of Middle-Earth. Of this she declared to the King she must be part, having a mind to redress her last meeting with their brother. To this he at last assented, granting her leave to join them, fearing little in her strength now grown and the strength of such great numbers as they mustered.

So Marya rode forth alongside her brethren in the Great Host. Aule set his hammer to mountain, hill, and canyon, and Ulmo with Osse tore up the coasts with wave and flood while Manwe cast his wind fiercely to enemy arrow and dragon and forest alike. Filled with a pained fury Marya wove together the three; conjuring terrific lightning storms and cyclones of deadly winds and rain very small to very vast in size, that cut deep across the inlands, crumbling great masses of rock sheer off mountainsides, and tossing and shredding through trees, hills, and legions of foes. She no longer needed the wand, but with it she could direct such dreadful elements with the precision of an elf's arrow.

As the battle against the dragons turned, the Princess clad herself and her horse of Orome in a veil of mist so fine it was difficult even for elves to see, and sped forth ahead alone, breaking and bursting open the gates of the Angband with a wind so strong none nearby could withstand it. Clad now in the pure light of the Great Flame she then hurried down the stairwells, like a great blazing star descending from the heavens. The light she cast went far upon the stairs and doorways, and the flame cleared and hallowed the foul air, and the wicked creatures of Morgoth fled from the halls as she went.

A pair of her Maiar from among the Guard had spied her donning her disguise and set off after her. They followed her as best they could as she descended into the depths of the fortress. After a long desperate and hurried search at last she found the Great Foe of Arda in his most remote cellar, trembling as the earth shook and groaned above. She rushed up and stood before him with her sword drawn and fire blazing. The Princess lifted her sword to smite him but her friends had reached her, and one steadied her arm. "Lady, he must be brought to judgement," one said to her.

She looked back at the Maia and lowered the sword, and the flame calmed. Morgoth then let out the faintest of smiles, which did not escape her notice. In the blink of an eye there was a flash of fire and his feet were hewn off, and his great cry rang through the caves and out into the mountain valleys above. At last the others now searching through Thangorodrim heard the cry followed it and there found them all in the chamber, taking up his crown to bind him with it. She was again set in charge of the guard as they bore the great enemy back to Valinor.


	2. Chapter 2

...

~ The Faithful ~

During the Second Age and the rise of Numenor, Marya remained long at the door to the Void, keeping Watch upon the Walls of Night herself where Melkor was cast out. Not until the end of the reign of King Elros was she persuaded to at last take leave of the Watch over the Gates and the Outer Walls and return to her abode in the Light Pass. During the golden years of the Kings of Men she took respite, again painting the sky with the clouds for the delight of the Numenoreans. At times she would watch over or guide their ships to and fro, or walk about the island unseen, and those nearby would wonder at the sudden strong breezes stirring the island's great trees.

At the imprisonment of Sauron by the Numenoreans they worried, for by the reckoning of their lives it had not been long since the previous Enemy wrought discontent and strife among the Children of Iluvatar, who ere long cursed as deceitful the gifts of fair lands and powerful skills by which they had before lived in blissful content by the grace of the Valar. The age wore on and the evil grew, and they all grieved, but as before with the Elf exiles in Middle-earth of the First Age, Manwe refused leave of any among the Valar to intervene directly. So Marya took to issuing signs and warnings with the weather, as Ulmo and Aule and the King himself would also do with their elements, going out as great ominous clouds and sending storms of thunder and lightning.

But then the great armada of Ar-Pharazon came up out of the east. Manwe had long marked their sailing, and commanded all further warnings to cease, seeing plainly now they were of no use.

From up high at Ilmarin where she had recently arrived to visit, standing not far from the King as she so often did, Marya looked down upon the fleet gravely as it approached Eressea. It was a fair clear morning, and the calm sea itself had the appearance of having caught suddenly with dark fire. She turned to the king in distress.

"O King, my brother, they have made it through the mists," she said to him. "What should we do?"

The King of course had observed the same, wroth and grieved and wondering that they had not foundered in the enchanted mists, and was also feeling much the same, and closed his eyes in thought. What _should_ they do? Prepare for battle? The Undying Lands had been tarnished enough with bloodshed, must they resign to stain it further by felling so many of the Second-born, here in a place meant to be preserved in purity as the last haven against the Shadow? How much further damage must they inflict on the world they themselves constructed?

After a brief moment he opened his eyes and looked over to her. Without further explanation he bade her hurry to Elenna and have a care for the safety of the Faithful waiting in their ships, and to let them see naught. So Marya went forth from the King's mansions as a great cloud upon his winds, and came down to them upon the sea unclad, and wielding the winds she pushed them from the reach of the chasm into which the great island would be consumed. Bewildered were the passengers at the sudden onset of fog so thick they could neither see nor hear aught but each other, and even more so at the direct westerly wind blowing so strong that their anchors were dragged along behind at a fair clip. They found that they could not gain control of the rudders, and as their ships sailed along due east a heavy rain began to whip at their backs as it fell upon the wind. Elendil, at least partly having some sense of what was happening, though he could not have explained his thoughts at the time, ordered the anchors pulled.

Marya knew not what was about to befall, though deep down she knew enough to keep pushing them eastward, and feared she was not pushing them away fast enough. But she feared also to blow the winds much harder, lest worse than their masts and sails break apart and founder. But from Iluvatar's wrath came the great towering waves out of the abyss and the ships were wrested from her control, and crushed cruelly like little boats made of reed. But Ulmo suddenly rushed up to assist, and took and bore the survivors safely to Middle-earth in its own tumult as it was further changed and reshaped.

She returned home to Valinor to discover that her abode had been destroyed by the cascading avalanche of crumbling hillsides upon the Numenorean forces in the valleys below the city of Tirion. Marya then removed permanently to the mansions of the king, save when taking leave to resume her travels about Aman.


	3. Chapter 3

...

~ The Third Age ~

Many years passed, and Marya would often watch the happenings in Middle-earth with her brother from the heights of Taniquetil. Late into the Third Age when the Lords met in council Mandos confessed that he foresaw the doom of the chief Istari, Curunir and Olorin. Among them there was less grief over the fate of the former, save perhaps by Aule, for it had been seen already that he had strayed down a wicked path.

Marya had been there with the King and Queen to give farewells to the wizards, who were each given an enchanted staff according to their talents to assist in their task, an idea inspired by the wand given to her long ago. Olorin was the second to leave, and she had presented the staff herself. 'It grieves me now to see you go, my friend,' she said. 'Would that I could accompany you thither, for long have I desired to walk again the wild lands that remain of the Forgotten Age of Almaren.'

'I would wish that as well,' he had replied. 'For I fear Sauron and your power has returned in full and more. You would be of much help.'

'Perhaps I may be of some use before the end,' she answered. 'Until then, we will be watching over you. Farewell!'

"Oh but that I had put it to you to send him!" she exclaimed to the King. "Please, brother, will you let me go and help?"

Some among the Ring of Doom agreed that would not be wholly unwise to send someone from among their order. After all five were sent and only one remained in service to the mission, certainly having one from among them in place to continue helping the Free Peoples should the Enemy succeed in his quest seemed all the more prudent. For this they need not send the mightiest, but one enough so as to instill doubt and hesitation in the enemy when the time came. The King was hesitant, thinking that sending one of their order would give aid beyond their constraints, but he looked to Mandos, who nodded his support in reply. "He brought the wand to her aid once, and she will bring it to his," he said.

Manwe thought upon it alone, then decreed that one of their kind such as herself would require the utmost secrecy so as not to alert the Enemy and set turning any plans of war the faster. He no longer worried of her straying from the path of good and light, and so devised a special plan, which would involve entering the race of the Men as one of them, as it was their war to fight and their age to inherit. She could return home, in no danger of dying from weariness, but would walk with many of the same burdens and cares as the race of Men, even more so than the others who were sent, just as she once had long ago. But this time as a new babe would she begin her journey, and all knowledge would remain veiled even to herself. Thus she would rely on fate and fortune only to guide her. If she at some point she were to remember, she was to then to abide by the same rules given to the other emissaries sent before her. To this she agreed, having anyway long been curious of the experience of life among the Mortals.


	4. Chapter 4

...

Part Two

~ The Little Princess ~

On a quiet morning a small grey ship emerged from the mists, reaching the docks at the Gray Havens, where Lord Cirdan himself greeted her, knowing alone in Middle-earth who she was and from whence she came. She offered the wand to him for safekeeping. He took it, foreseeing that on her journey they would meet again, before the end, when he would return it to her.

Off she went, and without raiment at this time she wandered off south unclad. Ere long she found what she was looking for: in the western foothills of the White Mountains she came across a marriage ceremony, deep into the night with one witness, the minister, under the bright light of a late winter moon. She then decided to join them, as their forthcoming child, and all memory of the past was buried deep beyond reckoning.

As it was the young man was a lieutenant of Southern Gondor called Tuor, and was part of the coastal watches against Umbar. At this time young Tuor took a grievous injury and became separated from his comrades, and he was hidden by a sympathetic family in the contested territory of South Ithilien. The girl Marwen was their daughter and only child, and the two formed an attachment under the circumstances. Her family clan claimed as an ancestor a lord of South Gondor and his court who'd had governorship over the territory during the days of Hyarmendacil and had removed to Ithilien when the people of Castamir took over the region. This lore of ancestry they passed down with pride, carefully recorded in scrolls of family trees for they were not unlearned. But the blood of the Lebennin folk had also touched the line, for over the years the families of the clan moved ever back and forth across the River amid the long years of war. So they had a glimmer of high Gondor in face but often grew to a shorter stature than the more direct descendants of Numenor. Her parents had some status and wisdom among the folk of the region, and were accepting of the match, but requested the young man bear their daughter to safer territory. They departed, and fled up the coast and came at last to Rohan where they married in secret.

It happened that young Prince Tuor of South Ithilien was descended from King Calimehtar by way of a daughter, Miriel sister of King Ondoher. Princess Miriel married a descendant of the youngest child of Earnil I and took up residence in Pelargir, after Earnil II assumed rule, and the Dunedain tied to that family assumed the defense of the region, ever losing and regaining South Gondor and South Ithilien, including the city itself. The family could have attempted to assert a claim after the passing of King Earnur, but decided against it, fearing it too perilous for the kingdom was so ever wrought by strife.

Now the long sword of Anarion lay buried with that first ruler in the House of Kings, but there was a short sword also, and this was passed down the line as an heirloom. King Earnil II gave the short sword to Miriel for safekeeping within the last line of the Royal House, fearing to entrust it to his son Earnur. And so in this way it passed down to Tuor.

Young Tuor soon had to return to Gondor, and left the lady Marwen and the sword in the care of an old family friend called Artamir who had once been an ambassador from Gondor to Rohan, and it was he who had ministered the wedding. Descended from the Steward family of Mardil, Artamir was a particularly learned man who possessed some wisdom. He had once served with some rank in the army, but was chosen for the role of ambassador before the practice ceased with the succeeding Steward. He had married there, though lost his Eorling wife and child very young. He then retired to running a small stream mill at a remote homestead in the foothills of the White Mountains, at the far reaches of the western marches near the Gap of Rohan, to which nearby wheat farmers would bring their harvest.

Tuor told Artamir that he would return for his family as soon as he could. But the lady died shortly after from childbirth fever, and the young soldier never returned, felled by a Southron's arrow in battle. The babe then became the ward of the old ambassador.

The old widower lifting the babe felt a pure and wholesome air about her, the strength of which seemed to lift noticeably his grieved and weary heart. And if ever he dozed while holding the child he'd remember vivid dreams of the majesty of ancient Andor and the mighty ships of its mariners upon the sea when he woke. He knew his friend was indeed a prince of the royal line, descended from the daughter of King Calimehtar, even if knowledge of it in Gondor might have been forgotten. The ambassador soon became so convinced that in the child the glory of Westernesse of old had returned that he gave her the name Elraen after the first ruler of Numenor, and dedicated what remained of his life to protecting and preparing her, either for rule or marrying into rule, with far-fetched hopes of restoring the Kingdoms in Exile.

The widower was close, a kind but melancholy man who said little, slept less, and rarely kept company, keeping few servants and few horses. He took it upon himself to raise the child, teaching her letters and the histories of the kingdoms and the tongues of Gondor, Rohan, Common Speech, Sindarin, and even a little Quenya, as well as he knew it. He taught her also of arms and combat, riding, marching, and bivouacking, at times asking visiting Riders for additional training. Being in Rohan they did not think this strange, for the training of women was custom there. However he took her never to the cities of the horse-lords, ever worried and pondering how and when to reveal the secret of her lineage. They were a rather grim and quiet pair together out in the remote foothills, and visitors came seldom.

The child grew to a shorter stature which was from her mother, with the dark hair and grey eyes of her father and his people. As she grew, young Elraen began to notice oddities about herself, in particular with connection to the weather. It seemed to shift with her mood, winds would quickly push together dark clouds under clear skies and cast thunder and lightning when she was angry or fearful, soft rains when she was grieved, and when she mirthful overcast skies would break ever so suddenly and the clouds would scatter to catch and cast the sunlight. The strange power began to grow stronger and it frightened her, even more so did the thought of revealing this mystery to anyone.

Now the old man Lord Artamir had planned at long last to return to Gondor and to bring her with him, knowing she would need someone known there to speak for her. But around midsummer suddenly the old man felt age catch up to him, and he took ill. They were alone there at the home, the only remaining servants had been sent with their only horses to deliver shipments of flour to the large towns and military centers. In his last days he called her to him. He bade her open a compartment door in the floor where there was hid a long box. She retrieved it, amazed and confused, and inside was the short sword, a beautiful weapon with an exquisitely carved scabbard. He explained again the loss of the line of kings in both kingdoms, and that this, the heirloom sword of the southern Kings, was now her inheritance. He continued, "if no heir of Isildur the Elder appears from the North, then you by the old laws of Numenor are the heir to the throne of Gondor. I do not know if that will be your lot, for both kingdoms always observed inheritance of rule through sons only. Still I chose to do my best to prepare you. Elraen, you are my daughter also, would that I could remain longer to aid you! I have tarried overlong in deciding when to return with you. But I soon depart this world."

"Without one known in Gondor to vouch for you I fear for you to go there alone, so I would counsel you to journey northward for guidance from the High Elves who have lived long in this world. They have great knowledge and wisdom and may be able to help you. And perhaps we still have reliable kin remaining in the north that they know of. The Master of the Grey Havens will be the easiest to find, so I recommend making for the harbor in the Gulf of Luhn. That road, I'm afraid, is one you must take alone. But, this is a finer blade than was ever wrought even in Gondor, with it you should be able to defend yourself well enough at need."

"But, sir," she said, "the servants. I could wait -"

"There is not time to wait for them to return before the season wanes and the cold arrives. And they are aged for such a journey, besides. Fear not! I have trained you well enough."

He was right. Their only remaining servants were an old married couple who would not be fit for such a journey. She missed old Hild, who he had originally hired as her wet nurse and had been of much help as she grew to womanhood.

"The winds of war are stirring," he continued. "Gondor is beset; that much I know at least of news there. My heart forebodes that here, upon the quiet mountainsides and gentle plains, even the Rohirrim will not be spared from the tide of dark and bitter days that will soon ride out from the East. You must leave now, under the fair warmth of this summer sun, to get to the North before it is too late. Alas that is also why I bid you go northward: for though the journey is perilous I fear it may be far safer than what may soon become of the South.

"But we have a good store already prepared to take with you, at least," he continued. "Take care to pass by Dunland with great secrecy, but beyond that the land should be empty of people. Then it should be safe enough to keep to the road. Remember not to attempt a crossing at Tharbad unless the river is low. But bring as many provisions as you can, for the journey is long and the land is barren."

Elraen sat by him long, and he passed in the night. She buried him herself as the rain drizzled down, setting over him his sword. She knelt by the grave a long time in silence with the short sword across her lap and her head held low. The light began to fade, and finally she went into the house and quickly packed as light as she could for a very long journey.

The news he had left her with sat heavy on her mind. Her whole life had been a hidden little existence on the remote reaches of the high plains, and now she, in many ways still a child and not quite come of age, may be thrust upon the throne of a country she had never seen before.

The scabbard had a strap for bearing diagonally across the back, with a hook to carry a shield though it had not come with one. With her black hair in a thick braid bound snug against her head and garments women in that country may wear for riding afield: a dark green tunic robe, paneled and hemmed past the knees but well above the ankles, riding breeches underneath, and dark brown boots, Elraen prepared to leave. She hung the sword from her shoulder, but at her front, for she had strapped to her back a great pack heavy with goods for the journey. All then was concealed by a dull green hooded cloak which served well to blend in with the pale green and golden brush grasses waving over the rolling hills of the Enedwaith. Lastly she fastened her foster father's large hunting knife to the side of her belt.

The young orphan set out after sunset, passing through woods that started behind the home and heading northwest between the outer reaches of Isengard valley and the western marches. When she stopped to rest, she climbed into the wide saddle of a large low tree at the western edge of the woods just before dawn. Elraen woke up sometime in the early afternoon, and gazed out through the trees at the westering sun upon the low rolling hills that lay ahead and smiled. Now that she was on the move part of her actually welcomed the turn of events. For she had long felt rather out of place in her little life on the plains, like she was just lying hid waiting for something, and had in any case longed to venture the wilds in solitude.

Daring not to continue yet she sat, nibbling on rations and watching the sun cross the sky. Focusing on the scattered clouds, she tried to gather them to her will but control was frustratingly out of reach. She pulled out the sword and looked at it. Still dazzlingly beautiful, it did not look as ancient as it was; the brilliant steel of its wide blade gleamed with a white radiance she'd never seen in the swords of the Rohirrim, nor even Lord Artamir's own sword from Gondor. She wondered if it was still sharp. Elraen spotted a stray shoot of a good size sticking out from the main tree branch that looked in need of pruning. Very lightly she flicked the sword at it, and the little branch lopped off with a clean cut. She felt better about the journey ahead. She also felt reluctant to use such a beautiful thing in combat but was glad it was a short sword, for she had always found the long swords unwieldy. Tucking it away she leaned back in the saddle of the tree to watch the sun go down.

For several nights the little lost princess pushed onward with as fast a pace as she could manage, gazing often at the moon as she went, trying unsuccessfully to remember something she thought she'd once learned about it. She strayed far around encampments of tent villages with evening fires burning, and thankful to often find groups of boulders or more short-trunked fat trees in which to rest hidden. After a week it seemed she had passed sight of Dunland country and was now venturing into the barren hills of the Enedwaith. Then it began to rain again. Since the weather would make for poor rest and she desired to return to a normal waking schedule, she continued on into the day as long as she could stand, taking in the expanse of lonely brown hills rolling off as far as she could see in every direction. The snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains were not far off on her right. Late into the afternoon at last weariness overcame her, and she was grateful at least to find a flat patch of gravel shouldering the road on which to set her little tent shelter. After pushing so far and long through the cold rain for so many days she lay down inside shivering in chill and grief and exhaustion, and had a bit of a weep, and fell asleep. Outside a hazy drizzle continued through most of the night.

It was still dark when Elraen stirred again, awoken by the chill that the hour before dawn wrought on her clothes still damp from the rain. Wearily she pushed herself up, and packed to resume the march. Lamenting the pitiful state of things she trudged onward in the cool morning, thinking of a hearth fire under her old roof, wishing she had packed warmer blankets to sleep in, but that of course would have been heavy and taken too much room away from the food. At least it had finally stopped raining. Shortly after sunrise the air at last started to warm up nicely and it began to feel like late summer again. She took off her cloak to give her clothes a better chance to dry.

Around midday she reached a small tributary of the River Greyflood that ran almost due East from the mountains to where it joined the Greyflood near its mouth. It was very swollen from the heavy rains and too dangerous to cross. There were the remains of a little old bridge, crumbling and broken, but what was left of it was overwhelmed by the flooding anyway. She wondered if the bridge at Tharbad might be in the same state or worse. Elraen stopped for a break, building a little fire to boil up some river water to fill her water skins. Then she followed its southern bank leading east, walking quietly through the drying mud and grass, and keeping alert for settlements of wild hillmen. But all she heard through the day was the rush of the overflowing stream, the breeze rustling the occasional bush or lonely stunted little tree, and the sound of her boots on the mud and gravel. She continued on in this way another several days, gazing at the shapes of the mountains, marching and sleeping in her little tent, stopping by the river to wash up herself and her things and her hair, as the bright sun and crisp wind singing whispers of autumn from the ever nearer mountains dried her things.

The little river was still swollen, so she continued eastward. Then she came across a curious thing: a row boat ashore complete with oars and all. It looked very old and seemed abandoned, but shoving it into the water to her surprise it was intact and did not sink. Elraen hopped in, happy to relieve the burden of her pack and sit for a while. She could have simply rowed across, but remembering what she could of maps of this part of the world, she knew the Greyflood a few days' march northward would present an even greater challenge if its bridge were in similar disrepair. And so she rowed upstream the rest of the day, feeling a bit more lighthearted for a change as she listened happily to the singing and whispering of the little river, planning to later head northward by the foothills to meet the Greyflood where it would also be easier to cross.

By sunset the little river became too shallow, so Elraen pulled it back ashore again, this time on the north bank. She found herself sad to leave the water, but pushed onward in a northwestern direction. As she had lost much time going so far out of the way Elraen decided to keep walking into the evening.


	5. Chapter 5

...

~ The Brown Wizard and the Big Bad Wolves ~

The sun set and a chill breeze ran down the mountains from the north. Well into nightfall Elraen was still walking, now quite high up on the thinly wooded mountain sides. Suddenly she heard a great howl so close she froze in her tracks as a shiver went through her. Then she heard another, and another. They were up ahead and seemed to be getting closer. She turned around and made almost due south, quickening her pace as the wind picked up around her. Just then she also heard a different sound that she couldn't place from somewhere ahead of her. It almost sounded like the call of a bird, a falcon or an eagle perhaps. Whatever was ahead would likely present the lesser danger, she thought, and started into a run. The howls followed. Elraen broke into a sprint. Clouds began to gather overhead. Emerging into a glade she almost didn't notice the figure of a tall man in brown as she passed by. Stunned, she turned her head back quickly for a look as she passed. There indeed was a man standing there just a few feet above from the footpath she was now running along, and she saw that he then turned to follow her.

A very perplexing sight which made her all the more nervous, she pushed up her pace all the more. She heard the strange sound again, realizing now that it was the strange man whistling like a bird. Coming out into another clearing Elraen reached the end of the path and found herself surrounded by sheer slopes, too tall and steep to descend with any speed or safety. She heard footsteps behind her and whirled around in a fright. It was the man, an old man, with long greying brown hair and beard, a long ruddy brown robe, and a long twisted walking stick in his hand. She gasped and stared at him, wondering what he would do next. He stared back, equally confused, and put two fingers to his mouth, letting out another great whistle. Suddenly behind them came the noise of their pursuers. They slowed as they approached, and closing in to just a few yards they formed a half circle around the two. The beasts were very large, much larger than she'd ever imagined wolves could be. The small blanket of thin pale clouds which had gathered above rapidly grew thicker, and darker, and gave the grumblings of a thunderstorm.

The man backed away from them and stopped close in front of her. He glanced up at the sky, wondering at the strange and sudden turn of the weather. The wolves glared at them, grumbling a low growl yet all standing still, as if waiting for a command from their leader who seemed to be the one in the center. The largest one he was, with curious markings, including a crooked strip of white marked upon his brow, almost like eyebrows. The wind began to circle around the pair, leaving them in a spot of calm but the area around them caught in a gale. It blew so fierce that the wolves were taken aback and had to lower their stance to withstand it. Lighting began to crack down upon the hillside around them. Elraen pulled out her large knife and held it behind her, readying for a fight.

The strange old man was equally amazed over what was happening but thinking quickly he flicked his staff and the bits of leaves and sticks and dirt and pebbles picked up by the blustering wind began to glimmer as if bright light shone upon them, and in different colors, like sun rays through many-faceted crystals. This perplexed their foes all the more. Suddenly Elraen heard another sound not far off in the distance. Another bird call. Suddenly appeared three eagles, larger even than the wolves, almost as big as horses. They dove at the wolfpack, who at last decided the hunt was no longer worth their trouble and retreated into the woods.

The wind died down as another two came down from behind, grabbing the arms of the two walkers in distress in their great talons and lifting them away. Very high they soared, and Elraen gazed in amazement upon the ground far below as they sailed over it with great speed, grasping fearfully at the creature's legs. To her dismay they were flying southward, but she certainly could not complain.

They had not flown defeatingly far, but far enough to set her back nearly a day's march. At last they were set down in a valley between two spurs of the foothills. As she looked on in awe, taking in the surprise of huge talking eagles, while the old man chatted close and quietly with them for a few moments then backed away as he rendered his thanks and praise. He looked at her and gestured to her to do likewise. She curtsied, thanking them profusely for the rescue, all the while trying to decide how much to reveal. The lot of them seemed safe enough, though they all seemed to be heading south and so unlikely to be of much further help. They did seem curious about her, and indeed they were quietly curious all the more about the winds and storms that seemed to draw to her, so she decided she could at least share her name, for few even in Rohan would know of her.

"My name is Elraen," she told them, "I was on a personal journey to the north and had to detour from the road into the mountains due to the rains."

The great eagle introduced himself, "I am Tarsul, a Captain of the Great Eagles. This my lieutenant who bore you is Culthoron." He continued with a polite apology over the setback in her journey, and she finished with her hope of returning the help someday. At that moment she did wish she had mastery enough over her strange gift to direct the wind to lift their wings and speed them on their way.

The old man rendered the proper farewell pleasantries, wishing the wind at their backs, and Elraen followed suit, and they flew off. She and the man looked at each other for a silent and awkward long moment. "And who are you?" she at last asked in wonder.

"I am called Radagast," he answered after a pause, as he began to head westward out of the valley giving out great whistles that were now decidedly less bird-like. "I was returning home when my horse was spooked by the howls, he flew far off my track and I later fell and lost him. If you are going north I'm afraid I cannot help you. I was routed too far south from my intended path and my route now lies yonder down around the end of those mountains and past the old forest."

"And you know those eagles?" she asked, following along, surprised by his fast pace, as dawn started to break over the mountains.

"Oh yes, birds make useful friends," he said without stopping, still hurried with fright and letting out more whistles. "Some birds are not friendly, though, and are spies for enemies. Need to be careful of those in the wilds."

"And those giant wolves?"

"Those are the Wargs. I did not know they roamed this far west. But there were at least only three of them, which is better than their usual numbers. If I were you I would not go the direction from whence we came, but if you must go north I recommend keeping lower down on the hills, and keeping a torch ready to light should you come across any more of them. Beyond that I do not know much of these parts."

"But you travel light, do you not eat? Or did your horse bear all your goods?"

The old man stopped and looked at her, curious, noticing her deflated pack as it occurred to him that he had really come across a mortal maid child alone in the mountains. At the same time he pondered the curiosity of the strange storm in the woods. And deep down by some hidden intuition he knew that he need not fear and that he should help the poor girl.

He sighed, and replied, "I do not know why you wander the wilds here alone, child, and maybe you cannot say, but some help I can give at least, until we reach the end of the valley when I must again turn southward." She followed him through the wide valley as he stopped now and again to teach her of foraging, finding several handfuls of wild nuts, berries, mushrooms, carrots, tubers, and onions. It wasn't very much, but anything seemed better than the week's worth of cram she had left. He continued whistling, and by noon when the reason for the whistling at last became plain. A neighing came from the trees off to their right, then out trotted a chestnut brown horse that sped up to greet him.

"I must depart now," he said as he mounted the horse. "Farewell, Elraen," he said looking at her still with some wonder, puzzling over her strangeness as though something felt familiar. "May the Lords of the West protect you."

She found herself sad to part with the strange old man, having been glad of the company, and tempted to ask him along the rest of her journey. But he seemed in a frightful hurry, like the minions of the old witch realm were chasing him down from the north, and she let the idea go. "Perhaps we shall meet again," she said quietly with a bow of her head, "Thank you, Radagast."

With that he took off like the wind, and she turned back northward, keeping a hard pace to recover lost ground. Remembering the note about wicked birds she decided to stay within the tree line low down in the foothills. Elraen saw at least the particular shape of the mountains she had noticed when she pulled ashore the rowboat, and was glad she was not very far from where she was first waylaid the night before. A light rain now started up again, but she stepped off in a hurry to make up lost time.


	6. Chapter 6

...

~ The Princess and the Three Dwarves ~

It was a few hours before sunrise when she finally decided to stop to rest. She had just unslung her pack onto the ground when she heard an odd noise in the distance. Up until then besides the whispered rustling of breeze through the tall grasses and sparse little trees, the entire region felt blanketed in a sad and lonely silence that seemed to lament gladder times of who knows how long ago.

Then there was a muffled crack. Then another. The cracking noise became clearer. Whatever it was it was getting closer. Then the cracks were followed by faint crashing sounds. She realized she was hearing the felling of trees. Someone was out there, not far, and coming closer. Suddenly the noise stopped. Within a few minutes she could see a thin wisp of smoke rising up through the trees in the distance.

Elraen wondered if she should get more distance from the noise, but that would require backtracking - which might be useless as they seemed to be heading in her direction - or moving to more open space which was also risky. She decided to sneak up for a closer look. She brought her pack along, in case she suddenly had to run for it.

The cover of night at least allowed her to sneak up quite close to what looked to be an encampment, between a wall of hillside rock and several boulders through which ran a large and ancient-looking footpath. A small fire burned in the center. She stole up to the farthest boulder and peeked around the side. By the fire sat three short and strange stocky men with long colorful beards and pointy hats and scarves, and iron cuffs round their wrists. They were linked together with a thick iron chain. 'Prisoners?' thought Elraen. 'Others out here risking the dangers alone too? Who could their captors be?'

Slowly she crawled up to the next boulder. Peeking out again she saw them: large people who looked a little like men, but with hunches and sickly skin and hideous faces and terrible scratching throaty voices.

Goblins! She'd learned some about them from her childhood history lessons, but never much of what they might look or sound like. There were a good dozen of them, maybe a few more, but seemed divided into two different sides, one of which seemed to wear a fine uniform though all in black.

"Where were you headin?" said the leader of the more scrabbly group to the eldest of the prisoners. The captive wouldn't answer even with a blade held to his face. The youngest tried to stand up to protest and got a swift kick to the back, nearly knocking him into the fire.

Elraen winced, and she was afraid, but at the sight of such cruel treatment she wondered if there was anything to be done.

Suddenly a large stick flew across the scene, hitting the one who just spoke on the head. "Master wants to question 'em first!" said the other, she supposed he was the leader of the nicer dressed group. "No matter for it now, won't be stopped here long."

The first one let out a sort of growling hiss noise and said no more. Without thinking Elraen searched the ground and picked up a large rock. The second leader turned away, his followers turned toward him for some kind of huddled discussion. This was her chance. She held her breath, took aim and hurled it. She ducked down behind the boulder as it smacked the leader right in the back of the head. She heard the ring of a sword being pulled from its sheath. Elraen slowly peeked around the side of the boulder, just in time to see a head fall to the ground. She clinched her eyes shut and clasped her hand to her mouth to keep in her gasp. She reached for her big hunting knife. It wasn't there. Suddenly Elraen remembered: she had dropped it when the eagles had rescued her.

She pulled back into the shadows of the great rocks, fearing she may have just made matters worse for the captives. But chaos then ensued between the rival groups and within minutes all but one were dead.

Elraen waited a long moment to be sure. The silence felt so long she worried that the little men were now slain too. Suddenly she heard a voice.

"Now there's a strange twist of fate," said one.

"Now what?" said another.

"Well we'd better do something, one managed to escape the battle and is like running for reinforcements," said a third.

Those weren't goblin voices. Clasping the hilt of her sword Elraen held her breath and stood up to see how her little sabotage had ended. The little men looked up, gasping in startled surprise. She let go of the sword handle and stepped forward.

"A young girl!" said the oldest looking one.

"Who are you?" asked the youngest.

"No time!" she replied. "One of them got away?"

"Yes," replied the middle one. "Did you throw that rock?"

"I did," she replied.

"I suppose we are in your debt now, Miss."

"Not until we've reached safety," she replied, poking around among the dead. "Which one had the keys?"

"The one that got away," he replied flatly. "Are you alone out here?"

"I'm afraid so," she answered. "Well we may as well start moving then! Just a moment!" and she dashed off as they pulled themselves up and started picking out what they could find of their belongings among the slain. Elraen reappeared with her pack on. "Off we go," she said, and struck out in front in a northwest direction.

"Where are you leading us?" said the eldest.

"Not far," she replied, walking hurriedly ahead as they followed along.

"Don't know how long it will take for that last one to fetch more friends. They'd overtake us easy," he added.

Elraen didn't answer and kept walking. After a half hour she found it - the little river! "Come along!"

They crossed over, then only had to follow the little river westward for maybe a half hour and before long she found her boat again. She started to push it back into the water.

"Boats?!" cried the eldest.

"You don't like boats?" she answered.

"You don't know much about Dwarves do you?" said the middle one.

"Dwarves!" she exclaimed. "Of course. Well, goblins also hate boats and water if I'm not mistaken. So, unless you have a better idea," she said, tossing her pack into the back end. With that the dwarves grumbled and climbed in. Elraen pushed it into the water, lower now but the current still good and swift, and got in the back. She used the paddle to pole the boat forward here where it was still shallow, but before long they were enjoying an easy ride at a good pace down the river. They kept going till well past dawn, the young girl steering and poling and rowing occasionally while the dwarves kept as still in the middle as they could manage and tried unsuccessfully to get much rest. Finally late into the morning the river was much deeper and they were far into the barren plains, and the Dwarves asked to go to shore for a break.

"Yes," she nodded wearily, feeling quite exhausted herself not having slept in two days, saw they were back out among the bare hills with quite some distance to the mountains. "I think it will be safe enough, now." She spotted a little stony beach on the north shore, and after much strained effort managed to get the boat beaches. The girl shared with them some of what was left of her cram and raw vegetables. "I don't have much left, we must try to make it last."

After many thanks and praise in spite of their pitiful state the Dwarves finally introduced themselves according to their fashion, with deep bows and offers of service and the names of their family houses, their hoods bobbing and long beards wagging. It would have been a strain not to let out a giggle, but thankfully Elraen was far too exhausted to laugh at anything. The eldest was Nim, the middle Dim, and the youngest was Frain.

"Elraen at yours," she said, following suit and replying with a deep curtsy. "I was on a journey north at the urging of my foster father. But, I can say no more at present."

"I understand, young lady, we are also bound to silence outside our home realm," said the eldest. "We were on a scouting trip, but became lost after missing our mark too far to the south and can likewise say no more. We did not know Orcs roamed this side of the Mountains. But we come from the north. If we can get back to the Blue Mountains perhaps one day we can return the favor for your service by what means we can."

'The Blue Mountains! That is well,' Elraen thought to herself. She remembered from her maps that they were not far from the Grey Havens, so helping these Dwarves get home safely would be a help to her. And with that, they all cast themselves to the ground and feel asleep without bothering to set a guard.

When they woke it was mid afternoon, and they packed back in. None were quite sure what to do next - if they got out now they still had the Greyflood ahead to worry about, and any way they went would take longer than their food would last, and there seemed none to be found along the river. She wished her foster father had taught her to fish. But there was not much for rivers in those parts where she grew up, only trickling little streams. In the end they decided it might be easiest to make for the coast and head north from there. Staying in the boat would preserve energy, and the river was still swift. Perhaps they would find better luck with foraging there. They could even use the boat to skim the coastline, and then row up the Brandywine to the southern end of their home. This was Elraen's idea, and the Dwarves liked it far less than she did. They protested, noting that wild men lived on the Emyn Vorn and were to be feared by any lone adventurer they thought might descend from the Exiles. For the dark woods of the peninsula were all that remained of the vast forest that once covered the entire region from the sea to the mountains, where their ancestors once dwelt freely in peace from warring kings of Elves and Numenoreans and the Dark Master in the East.

But eventually they agreed, for they could think of no better plan and also did not care to think of marching the rest of the way bound by their chains. But, they added, it was far from certain they could even get that far.


	7. Chapter 7

...

~ Pirates ~

And so they continued this way, after the little river met the Greyflood. It had now reached September, and over the next few cool and overcast days the river had widened to almost a mile. A ways ahead on the north shore they spied a magnificent old tower. On either side were the crumbling wooden walls of ancient fortresses and lines of old docks. The gulls began to appear, squawking as they glided overhead. Elraen wished she had asked Radagast about asking birds for help, wondering if it would do much good here.

They had now run clear out of food, and it was plain that trying to walk anywhere would be folly without more provisions. Elraen began to wonder if they could even make it as far as the Blue Mountains.

Around noon the current began to pick up - they were finally approaching the mouth of the Greyflood. Into view now came piers also, going along the northern shore until they disappeared from sight, ancient and nearly all ruined beyond usable. As they grew closer to the tower more works of stone came into view: a layered fortress adorned with ramparted walls, and ahead in the distance a great quay, smoothed and worn by the waves, jutting out into the water.

They needed to get closer to shore lest the current push them too far out to sea. The day was clear and fine, and as the afternoon began to wane Elraen got the boat to the north shore, and they trekked a ways inland toward the ruins of a small town. Then she realized they had made it - just up ahead was the great sea.

Elraen gasped, her breath caught at the sight of the water stretching out in every direction. The deep gold sun behind them cast upon the endless rolling waves in all manner of colors, red and orange and purple with glittering white spreading wide down the center.

All of a sudden along the shore she spied something that stood out. There it was - a thin wooden pole with black fabric draped down beside it.

"Wait here," she said quietly as she set her pack down.

Much relieved at the opportunity to rest on dry land they promptly sat down. "What is it?" asked the youngest.

"There's a ship!" she exclaimed in a whisper, and started casually walking towards it. She thought Lond Daer had been abandoned for thousands of years. Before the dwarves could protest against such a careless approach she had started off, her weary and hungry mind overwhelmed with thoughts of finding food. Elraen made her way past the old wooden buildings lining the riverbank, which lay a half mile before the ancient high sea walls, covered in moss and seaweed and mussels and cut in layers below a small complex of stone buildings, with the great quay beyond, topped finally by the grand tower, all seemingly carved and out of sheer rock and set in to the low rocky hillsides surrounding the mouth of the river. The dark little windows speckled upon it all looked down on the remains of the town with a dreadfully haunted feeling to their gaze. Down here by the river bank were the wooden bones of the old town, with its decrepit structures and weathered boardwalks. She hadn't got far at all when from behind scrub brush growing wild along the boardwalks out popped a tall man with a scruffy beard and disheveled hair and a bow with a strung arrow pointing at her.

Elraen jumped back a step in a start. The man started toward her. "Thought you could get a jump on us eh, sweetheart? Thinkin yous clever enough to rob us, huh?" he said as she backed away. Another man armed with bow and arrow jumped out from behind a bush along a line of shrubs growing over the old wooden boardwalks. "We seen your little boat a mile off," said the second one. "Curious little gang, here. Boss'll wanna have a look at you lot," added the first.

And off they were trotted at arrow point off to the quay and onto their large brown ship. The men untied the rope and pulled up the plank. Elraen did not like the look of that. Whatever their intentions there was no hope of release or escape by land. She also turned, looking back in the direction they had left the boat, lamenting the loss of her pack, nearly empty though it was. The ship pulled away from the worn and weathered and otherwise abandoned harbor and turned northward. 'Going north. There's one thing in our favor at least,' thought Elraen.

They were herded toward the middle of the deck. One of the sailors noticed the odd shape at Elraen's back. He pulled back her cloak and found the sword. "Thinking you'd save this for later?" he snorted at her, and pulled it from the sheath. She gasped. "No!" she cried and lunged to reach for it. That resulted in a fierce shove to the floor, and the Dwarves received likewise.

"Precious thing to you eh, dearie?" he said to her. "It'll be worth all the more to the cap' then."

Another sailor came up and tossed a loaf of stale bread and a flagon of water at them. At this point none of their odd group of prisoners was feeling too proud to accept. Elraen took up the loaf and broke it into four, and passed out the pieces. The rest of the crew busied about unfurling the sails and taking up positions; one climbing to the nest at the top of the mast.

At last after a half hour the captain strode out from inside the cabin. His boots made a great big heavy stomp. He came around and stood before them, a tall burly man with a tanned face and a dark bushy brown beard. The sailor holding the sword came up to him. "Girl had this on 'er," he said, holding it up. "Precious thing to her it is," he added.

The captain took it to inspect it. He chuckled. "I can see why - if this thing's worth half as much as it looks then it was already worth rounding up the lot of you," he said in a grumbling scratchy voice. He handed it back to his mate to hold onto and gazed at her with a puzzled look. "Playing soldier on some secret mission, eh little girl?" he continued. "I'll wager that you'll fetch a fine ransom with that thing."

She dared not reveal that no one now alive in Middle-Earth even knew who she was or that she had the sword, least of all anyone of import who could offer money.

"What bout them Dwarves?" asked the mate.

The captain glanced at them, looking rather pitiful in their tattered dirty coats, still strung together with a heavy iron chain. "They don't look like much," he replied. "Toss em over," he said, and a couple of crew members yanked them onto their feet and started pushing them toward the gap in the rail.

"Are not the dwarves famous hoarders of treasure?" Elraen blurted out in a hurry. "They'd be worth a good ransom too."

The crew members paused to wait for the captain's answer. "These rabble are plainly from the Blue Mountains. Ain't no treasure left up there," he replied with a wave of his hand. "No need to bring 'em along now; the only Men with money's in the south. We're turnin that way to find a buyer for you and your beautiful sword," he said to Elraen. He nodded toward the two crewmembers who resumed prodding the dwarves to the edge, and the captain strode over to the wheel. Nim tried to chime in protest, or to try and persuade them otherwise, but got a swift kick to the back with a barked warning to quiet down. Down with him went the others as the chain yanked them forward. The sailors gave out a cruel laugh and shouted at them to get up. The wind started to pick up and blow every which way.

Elraen was at a loss over what to do. Besides losing her new comrades, going south would likely mean a bad ending for her, too, where anyone who even knew of the sword would likely figure she stole it, or inherited it from someone who stole it. In the distance thunder started to rumble.

Elraen watched the captain's mate stride toward the rail to oversee the execution. She couldn't have explained what happened next or what good she thought it would do, but a desperate panic overcame her and she charged at him. She crashed into him before he could react, and amid his surprise she grabbed the sword as he tumbled over the rail and fell into the water. A flash of lightning cracked a few miles away followed by a boom of thunder.

Elraen swung around toward the rest of them. "Back up!" she cried, raising the sword. They stopped, and even leaned back a step. But the captain had not been idle, and in a flash she had a knife at her throat with her hair pulled back tight.

"Drop it, girl," he grumbled, "or your corpse is going in with em!" The captain nodded to some of the others who scrambled to lower the anchor and look for their crew mate. She lowered the sword.

All of a sudden three large arrows, longer and sturdier and more finely wrought than those of the sailors, landed on the deck all about them. They looked to have been shot from up ahead to the north but none could see from where.

At the same time the lookout up in the nest was shouting something but no one could make it out over the noise of the wind.

"What is it?" shouted up one of the crew. The man in the nest kept shouting. At last the wind slowed enough to hear: "Sea swell!" he was crying frantically pointing off due west.

The captain held firm but his nerves began to fray. He pushed the knife harder as he swung his head to get a look. Elraen could scarcely dare to breathe. Suddenly a fourth arrow struck him, straight through the ribs. He dropped to the floor, but not without leaving a terrific scrape upon her neck. Elraen lunged to grab hold of the rail with her free arm. Half a moment later the great swell reached them.

It was an enormous hill of a wave that crashed over and tilted the ship so steeply that suddenly all the remaining men tumbled down, flying off the deck into the sea, where they were swallowed up and carried off by it. The dwarves tumbled and slid down until they hit the side of the cabin in the middle of the deck. Elraen tried to hold onto the rail but the force of the sway was so violent that her grip was loosened, and she slid across the deck, which sloped almost straight into the air, until she was stopped by the opposite rail. Then the water crashed over them all like the surf over the beach, as Elraen reached desperately for one of the posts. Then the deck returned to its old position with a gentle rocking, and just as soon as it came the wave had passed, the pirates were gone, and the ship returned to rights.


	8. Chapter 8

...

~ The Mariners ~

Elraen and the dwarves slowly collected themselves, soaked and yet in stunned silence, and gathered on the deck. They were all still feeling quite in a bad way but were relieved to discover they were all alive and present and relatively unharmed.

"Well bless my beard that we're alive and rid of those wicked Men but now what? Do you know how to sail this thing?" said Nim.

Elraen shook her head, still catching her breath and trying to recover her nerves.

"And who in the wide world shot those arrows?" exclaimed Dim.

"Lady," Frain jumped in, "you're bleeding!" he cried, pointing at her neck.

Elraen touched the side of her neck with a wince and saw the bright red on her fingers. She grimaced. "It is not serious I think, or I should be dead now." She searched her pockets for a handkerchief. "Here," said Frain, holding out one of his. She took it and pressed it to her neck, with no idea what to do or say next.

Just then the blast of a horn rang through the air. It was no harsh blare such as a battle horn made by Men would sound, but beautiful and pleasant like a court minstrel's fair music, yet at the same time it had a stern and commanding feel to it.

Elraen turned to the direction from which it came and stepped up to the rail, peering out, straining to find the source of the noise over the large rolling waves. At last she spied it. A pale little spot against the dark sea.

"There's a ship!" she cried. She wondered how on earth whoever was on it could even see them let alone aim arrows so far. "We have some time, it looks quite far," she said. Elraen plucked one of the arrows off the deck, inspecting it. Suddenly she realized how weary she felt, and sat down. By now the sun had completely set and the sky had grown dark.

It wasn't more than fifteen minutes before Frain called out again. "They're almost here!"

Elraen scrambled to her feet, having to see for herself that they had arrived so quickly.

"Why it's the elves!" said Dim.

"Do not the Dwarves have a fraught history with the Elves?" she asked nervously.

"Not with all," said Nim. "With the Elves of the Havens we've had no quarrel and still do business with them."

"And besides we are not descended from the Dwarves who sparked that ancient conflict," said Frain. "There is hope."

'The Havens!' she thought. A break in her quest at last. She sheathed her sword. The next thing they knew a great white ship was upon them, much bigger than the one they were on, lightly and skillfully it pulled up alongside. It was beautifully wrought with intricate carvings along the sides. There stood at the rail several elves tall and fair looking down upon them in curious wonder. A few had arrows pulled at their bows, perhaps in anticipation of any remaining pirates. Elraen suddenly felt keenly aware of how she must look, after weeks of roaming through the mountain wilds and several days on a rowboat with almost no food and poor rest.

The ship was so close that they were able to easily lay a broad plank. Four of their crew crossed over bearing swords and boarded the pirate ship. They stood a few moments, looking cautiously around and back at the captives.

At last Elraen broke the silence. "Mae govannen," she said with a little curtsy, still holding the cloth at her neck. At that they all looked at her, surprised, even the dwarves. "We are out of danger," she continued in their speech, "in part thanks to you, and in part thanks to the great wave that just passed by."

The tallest elf stepped forward and sheathed his sword. His gaze fell upon each of them in turn. "Well met indeed!" he at last replied. "A mortal maiden who speaks the Elven tongue? With a company of three chained dwarves. Strange chances do we meet upon the sea!"

Elraen could make out only parts of what was said. "I am better with the Common Tongue," she confessed.

He looked at her a long moment, pondering all these strange things together. "I am Voronwe, captain of this ship you see here," he declared in the preferred language. "What a sight we've come across! A young mortal who from afar we nearly mistook for an elf, with three dwarves, together all held captive by wicked Men. You three I guess hail from the Blue Mountains," he said to the dwarves. They each introduced themselves with a deep bow and offer of service. "I may find use for such service as you can provide in the future, but clearly you are in need of mine. We have tools here to remove those Orc chains," he said, "and I can take you as far as Mithlond at the Havens." They bowed low again many times with more praise and thanks and declarations of their debt.

"And who might the mysterious maiden be that these three can thank for our detour?" he went on turning now to her.

"I am Elraen, out of the kingdom of Eorl a ways south of here," she said, "it is the Lord of the Grey Havens that I seek."

All looked at her, in wonder anew, not the least of all the dwarves who at last learned the mysterious purpose of her lonesome journey. The captain looked at her quietly for a long moment.

"And what is it you desire of the great Shipwright, child?" he asked at last.

"I seek counsel," she replied, "at the urging of my foster father, the last ambassador of Gondor to Rohan."

Voronwe looked at her gravely for a moment, then his face softened. "Well, then you are in luck, as mortals might say, for it is Lord Cirdan whom we serve. It would not be our custom, but days are strange when darkness grows. We will take you to him. Come," he said gesturing for them to cross over.

They boarded the ship, the crew pulled anchor and turned about back northward. The freed captives told the elves what they would of their stories as the dwarves were at last freed of their chains while Elraen's wound was tended.

"What are the elves doing sailing way out here?" asked Nim meanwhile.

"This ship is newly complete, built to carry the elves migrating West," said Voronwe. "We had it out for a test, as we do all the new ships."

"Do you know aught of such wicked men?" asked Frain.

"We do not trouble much in the news and affairs of Men. But I might guess they are perhaps a rogue group from among the Corsairs, who dwell mostly very far south from here. The few Men that still dwell in this region have no ships such as the one that bore you."

At last Elraen spoke up. "How did you mistake me for an elf?"

He looked at her, wondering at her confusion. "You have a light," he replied after a long pause. "Mortals sometimes say that about each other as a term of speech. But in your case there is indeed a real one. Up close it became very faint and difficult even for an elf to see, brighter in the eyes, then disappeared. From afar we could see it brightly, like a fire it seemed almost, and so we turned to look closer. We at first wondered if we had come across one of the Calaquendi."

"The elves of Valinor."

"Yes. Although the light was rather different than what you usually see from the Elves out of the West. It piqued our curiosity regardless; it is indeed only because of it that we chose to intervene."

He looked at the dwarves, who were following the conversation, silent and amazed. "Most fascinating. Apparently it is so veiled only Elves can see it. Right now it has died down, perhaps it kindles when you feel alarmed or threatened. I hope Lord Cirdan can tell you more."

"I look forward to it," she said. Then they were shown to their quarters. There were many empty rooms available, and the captain had quarters prepared for them as well as they could manage. In each room they were provided large tubs of warm water with which to bathe and clean their clothes, and such fresh clothes and linens as they could spare. There was also a small table upon which had been set some waybread and strong wine.

Elraen felt blissful after the hardship of the last several weeks. She washed up and cleaned her clothes and happily sank into the soft bed for a better sleep than she'd remembered in many years.

The next couple of days went by quietly as the elves went about their business, the weather fair and clear. They would break into songs, some solemn, some more silly and accented by their laughter. 'A merry lot they are,' thought Elraen to herself. The dwarves being even less happy on the open sea remained in their quarters most of the trip, also sometimes irritated by the melodious laughter they suspected was at their expense, but Elraen spent much of the time at the bow, gazing quietly at open sea, mostly toward the western horizon, almost expecting a half-fancied land beyond it to suddenly appear. At night she would often remain long out on the deck, gazing up at the sky as the grey elves were wont to do. Some took notice of this and would talk with her at whiles of their love for the stars, even singing the Lay of Earendil in full, and many other songs besides. They wondered, for she would stare long and intently at them, especially the bright Evening Star, as if the twinkling little lights stirred some lost memory that she could not find.

As the sun set on the second evening, the wind picked up all of a sudden. The waves began to swell and off in the distance rolling thunder began to boom. Before they knew it the ship was getting tossed around by angry waves like a child's toy in a wash tub. A stinging rain whipped at their faces with a howling lashing wind, and lightning began to crack down close by. Even the Elves struggled to keep from being flung into the sea, and they began to fear they might fare no better than the mariners of the Havens who had come to the rescue of another mortal from among the Kings of Men in an age long past.

Elraen knew she could not be the source of this storm, she'd been feeling far too content the past couple of days. She crouched and clung tight the rail, and thought of the poor dwarves who must be getting ill swaying and tossing round in their room. The captain called to her to get inside. She started to make her way across the deck from the bow, trying to keep her balance and shield her eyes from the sheets of blinding rain. Then suddenly the waves pushed the boat in such a way that it seemed to jump in the air and slam back down onto the surface. Elraen was knocked from her feet and fell flat onto the floor. She rolled over and crawled back to where she had started and clung to a rail post. There seemed naught to do but hold on. She closed her eyes and started to sing.

It was an ancient song, a short folk rhyme commonly taught to children in South Gondor where there had once thrived a culture of seafaring mariners and their families. Lord Artamir had once told her that the verses likely rooted back as far as old Numenor. The lyrics were in essence a plea to the Lady of the Seas for safe passage. Elraen's voice sang out softly, barely audible even to anyone if they were standing near.

When she finished the song, a blast of water and warm wind blew swift over them then suddenly the wind slowed. She got up from where she'd been crouched and stood a little higher, still holding to the rail, and sang it again. The waves shrank down more, and within minutes the rain tapered off to a misty drizzle.

Elraen wasn't sure if her singing had anything to do with the storm's sudden departure, but she looked out at the water and smiled to herself anyway. Then she turned around to find the elves all staring at her amazed, feeling themselves surprised and confused and curiously reverent, as though by contrast they were all quite certain the singing had driven away the storm. The captain walked up to her as the rest returned to tending the ship and tidying up the deck. "Well, Lady Elraen, I daresay your debt to us is now paid! I am most curious to hear what my lord has to say."


	9. Chapter 9

...

~ The Havens ~

The next few days were then quiet and uneventful as they finally had turned east and were sailing through the Gulf of Luhn. It was now nearly autumn, and the whole area seemed shrouded in fog, though she could make out the great green hills, starting to change color, rising high on either side to the north and south. At last the fair white towers of Emyn Berain emerged in the distance. It was a peaceful and lovely place, and Elraen felt she could linger for weeks just to gaze at it.

It was morning when they reached the docks where Lord Cirdan was already waiting for them. "Greetings, young lady!" he said warmly. "I have been expecting you."

Elraen looked back at him, astonished, wondering how word of her journey could possibly have reached him.

"Lord Cirdan is a seer," Voronwe explained. "He has great foresight and can see many things at great distance."

"Come," continued the Shipwright, "there will be much to discuss. But first we dine!"

They were led through town and settled into new quarters, the dwarves mighty relieved to be back on firm dry land at last. A feast of fine food and music was held that night in honor of all who had survived the wrath of the seas. There she saw many Elves, including some of the Valaquendi themselves. Elraen looked into their keen eyes set in fair faces and saw the light that seemed to shimmer from within, bright but not blinding, there and somehow not quite there at the same time, and she felt bewildered to think that she could possess anything that looked similar.

The next morning she met with the Shipwright alone in his halls. "Now, child, what is it that you have come so far through danger and toil to ask of me?" he said.

Elraen then proceeded to tell him her story, going back to where she was born and how she was raised and everything her foster father told her before he died. She handed him her sword in its sheath, and he looked over it for a long moment.

"I am afraid I know not enough of the affairs of Men to give you much counsel of use," he said. "But I know who does, and I will help get you to him. I may yet send messengers thither but I do not know just when yet. Anyway, I think, your journey will not lie with them."

"There is something else," she continued after thanking him. Surprised at herself for suddenly feeling so open, she went on to tell him all of her strange powers, from when she first noticed it as a child up to the storm on the sea. "But, I cannot seem to control it at my will."

The Lord of the Havens smiled. "In this matter I can help. Come, child," he said and led her out onto the balcony of his halls, high up in the southern tower. "Do not think of controlling it. Think of the elements themselves, and their journeys; the clouds meandering across the sky, storm clouds gathering, and from them the rain releasing and the lightning striking. And most of all think of how you feel when it happens."

She closed her eyes and thought of the weather, and times when it would rain or storm. She thought of her grief over her foster father's passing and the fear and anger toward the pirates. She looked up at the clear sky and saw clouds were slowly starting to gather. A drizzle began to fall. Elraen gasped. "It's working!" she exclaimed in a whisper. At that burst of excitement the clouds parted.

"But how is it that I can do such things?" she asked. "And what is this light your sailors speak of?"

He smiled again. "In good time! All will be revealed soon enough."

The Dwarves then took their leave to get home, but asked her to linger a while, planning to return before she left. Elraen obliged for she was feeling very content and in no hurry to leave. The ladies of the harbor even wrought for her a fine dress, blue as the sea, in which to take her ease. For his part, in return for the assistance with the pirates and Orc chains, the Shipwright asked of the dwarves only that they keep the curious mysteries and stories of the girl secret for now. He asked the same of his own elves.

While she waited Cirdan presented to her a horse for the rest of her journey. It was a tall and beautiful yellow mare, with a coat like ripe wheat gleaming in the afternoon sun and pale flaxen hair and tail that was nearly white. "Anaraui we call her. In the Common Tongue her name is Sunstreak. Very fast she is, even by the measure of elf horses, and stouthearted, for she is descended from the great horses brought from the West by the Noldor. I think she wearies of idling here within our borders and desires to run adventures over fields afar."

Elraen was amazed, for even with all her time spent in Rohan she'd never seen a horse so large and fair. She had a hint of the light of the West in her coat and her face and eyes, and glimpsed from afar as she ran the viewer might wonder if the animal bore a rider holding up a mirror in the noonday sun. "How beautiful!" she replied, petting the beast's snout. The splendid horse had been outfitted with a fine soft saddle for her with an intricately embroidered halter. Elraen took her out upon the surrounding hillsides while she waited for the dwarves to return.

After nearly a week the dwarves at last returned, this time with several relatives in entourage. "We are in forever your debt, Lady Elraen. We have brought you such tokens of gratitude as we have, that are fit for a child of Men, and one for whom the Shipwright has told us may face more danger ahead," said Nim. He handed her a modest pouch of gold and silver and copper coins (for the pirates had been right about there being little treasure left in the Blue Mountains), enough at least to get her comfortably through Bree by the available inns. Then with a deep bow he presented the main gift, a small dagger of mithril, with a finely wrought golden hilt and scabbard encrusted with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. It was breathtaking.

"It was wrought here in the Blue Mountains back in the First Age, at the behest of the great Elf King to gift to his daughter's first born. War broke out between the dwarves and the elves before it could be given to him. We dwarves do not have much use for such weapons as these, but perhaps you might on your journey ahead. If there is ever anything more we can do, we are much obliged."

"Exquisite!" she exclaimed in a whisper and curtsied deep in return to receive it. "I am humbled. Perhaps I will someday return to ask such a favor. In any case this is a very generous gift, and I thank you."

The dwarves again departed, and the lost daughter of the Dunedain set out the following morning. Sunstreak was minimally outfitted with small bags of food, supplies, and the gifted clothes. "Follow the road due east," said Cirdan, "and it will take you to Imladris, the house of Elrond. Passage should be safe enough as far as Bree, though that is less than halfway. But fear not, no beast of any enemy on land can best this horse for speed if the need comes. If you come across an old man in grey who goes by the name of Gandalf, ask him for help."

"Oh, and there is one more thing," he said, and brought out a small but long leather pouch with a pair of straps. He opened it, and inside was a fine silver rod, not even the length of her own forearm.

"This wand may look humble but it is far from it. It brings strength to a pure heart, and will help you focus your gifts," he said. He held it up and it caught the sunlight and cast it in every direction like a crystal, and almost seemed to glow. "Keep it hidden," he said, "for it is a very precious thing. But, above the gifts you have received here your own power is the most precious, so my counsel is to keep your story as short as you can and speak of this to no one after me until the time is right. I promise, when that time comes, you will know it."

She thanked him profusely again as he fixed it to her left forearm under the sleeve, and at last set off eastward. It was her nineteenth birthday.


	10. Chapter 10

...

~ Eastward ~

It was a fine fall day when she set out, and after a while she let Sunstreak break into full speed, which was quite a thrill by itself. Elraen wondered how long the horse could keep such a pace. After a few hours Sunstreak seemed still full of energy, dashing across the White Downs like a gust of wind. Such a grand feeling did it give her that the young wanderer let out an exhilarated laugh. She wondered if the wand was giving the horse a lift, too. For herself Elraen did seem to feel different, a bit lighter, less lost and grieved, though that could have partly been from her stay at the Havens. She gazed at the sky as Sunstreak kept a strong pace across the downs, clasping the wand where it hid in its pouch tied to her belt. At the moment she was in a joyful mood, and the clouds gathered in majestic patterns in the sky.

By evening they were already approaching the western borders of the Shire, and Elraen decided to stop and camp for the night before crossing it. The elves of the havens had provided a new little tent, but the weather was fine so she lay in her new sleep sack and pillow on the ground, meditating on her emotions, pushing the wind through the trees. Things were much easier now with the wand in hand, but still it was difficult to manage any precision.

In the morning she continued on more slowly as the way became more populous, so as not to alarm (or accidentally trod upon) the little inhabitants, with her fine things carefully hidden under her cloak. The guards at the border were a bit wary of her, a Big Person on a great big horse. But she declared her intention of simply passing through on her journey east, and they let her pass, for she and her horse had a friendly enough look to them, and the air about them had a wholesome and disarming feel to it. As Elraen proceeded down the road through various towns the little folks bustled about their businesses without seeming to have much notice or concern for travelers such as she; or any other races bearing news and other burdens from the wide world. Just after nightfall she reached Hobbiton, where she stopped for the night.

The inn there was abuzz with the big news of late - the attack by the mysterious robed Men on horses. It sounded quite frightful, and her thoughts turned to the fearsome pack of foes who had caused the stir, rumors abound regarding who they were. From the sound of things they seemed to be heading eastward. Remembering Cirdan's words Elraen began to worry about the remainder of the journey once she passed Bree.

In the wee hours of morning Elraen could take no more sleep and left the inn just before dawn. She was well on her way as the morning came on with a chill in the air. Her mood had sombered after an evening of listening to tales of the mysterious shadowy foes. With the road ahead on her mind, the lost young heiress set off again toward the east at a tight clip and kept going at a strong pace late into the afternoon. She stopped at the Bridgewater the next night, hearing much the same talk as the previous night. Elraen was relieved to reach Bree well before the sun set the next day, as they had not yet closed the gates. She checked into the main inn in town, where there was an even bigger buzz about what sounded like the same cloaked foes.

Elraen was now growing very worried about the road ahead. These mysterious black-robed riders sounded more formidable and fearsome than any disorderly troops of Orcs or gang of Corsair pirates. She wondered what she would do if confronted by them, however many there were, out on the wild lonely road between here and Rivendell.

She sat in the dining room over her empty plate of finished supper, trying to pick up bits of information from the chatter around the room. Suddenly into the room burst a frenzied energy with a great sense of urgency.

"Barliman!" shouted a low voice with a boom. Most of those in the room jumped slightly in a start. "Oh, it's only that strange old man again, always bustling about in a hurry," said one of the customers sitting nearby.

This kept her attention. Elraen looked closer and saw that the man was dressed all in grey. He reminded her a bit of the strange old man she found wandering alone in the mountains, long hair, long staff and all. She watched intently as the man then exchanged quieter words with the owner and suddenly let out a merry laugh, exclaiming his forgiveness to the frightened innkeeper. The old man crossed the room and picking a big cushioned chair sank in and pulled out a pipe. Ere long he sat in silence, smoking, lost in thought.

"Hello," said a soft voice. "Are you Gandalf?"


	11. Chapter 11

...

Part Three

~ The Meeting ~

The old man looked up and saw a girl who looked a bit young to be traveling alone. He stared at her a long moment with almost the same look as Radagast had given her when they parted - as one suddenly confronted with a familiar face but the memory of it was all but lost, buried under many years of care and worry. At last he replied. "Yes, young lady, around these parts that is what I am called. Who is asking?"

"My name is Elraen, I have journeyed here from Rohan for guidance in Rivendell, and was told that if I came across one called Gandalf to ask for his help."

Now all those clues strung together he found quite the puzzle. "Go on," he said. "Why do you seek guidance at Rivendell? And who told you to ask help of me?"

"I seek the Elves at the urging of my foster-father Artamir the last ambassador of Gondor to Rohan," she said. "It was Lord Cirdan who said to ask you for help if I saw you."

All the more intriguing. He had met the ambassador once many years ago, but at the time he was young with a new family and no ward. She looked quite young, too young to be the same babe he saw way back then then. "Come, then, child," gesturing to an adjacent seat. "Quickly, tell me your story."

She sat down and recounted the highlights of her story, telling him only that her foster father told her to seek Master Cirdan, so to the Havens she went first. She left out Artamir's talk of the throne, and skipped most of her adventures on the road. Remembering the Shipwright's warning she took care to also not to mention anything about her strange powers or the mysterious calming of the storm at sea, and especially what the elf ship captain had told her. She unhooked the scabbard strap and pulled out the sword in its sheath from under her cloak and handed it to him.

He inspected it closely. It looked genuine, and the young girl did sound earnest, but he never knew of an heirloom sword of any significance in the southern kingdom. Elrond would know more. There was also almost certainly more to her story than she revealed, having said only that she was heir to one of the southern princes and that Artamir feared for her acceptance as a stranger of mixed blood. But something in his heart told him not to distrust her. At least Lord Cirdan had thought so, and that was enough to satisfy him. Moreover, something in his heart told him not to discount her.

She came to the part about crossing the Shire and arriving in Bree. "I've been hearing much about these strange foes harassing and intimidating locals for the past two days. I fear the remainder of the journey from here."

"Well! It appears you do need my help, young Elraen," he replied at last, handing back the sword. "And that you do indeed have need of Elrond's counsel. As it happens I am also making for Rivendell. You may come with me."

Elraen was relieved. By Cirdan's account Gandalf had spent a lot of time traveling the north and knew it well. She hoped it would now be a smooth trip the rest of the way, and retired to her room for the night.

An hour before dawn she was stirred awake by a great clamor out in the town. Elraen jumped out of bed and ran to the window, which looked out onto the street. Then she saw them - the riders, robed in black and tearing through town upon their black horses. Her mind went blank and her hands clenched as they bore away down the road.

She wondered if Gandalf would be awake as well and preparing to move on. She dressed and packed and opened the door. There he was getting ready to knock.

"Ah, very good!" he said, seeing her already ready to go. "Come! We must away at once. My friends need my help. I hope to catch up to them before those Riders do, if I can."

When he took in the sight of Sunstreak after Nob brought her out he smiled in approval. "Do your best to keep up!" he said.

He sprang up onto his great grey horse, and off Shadowfax bounded like the breeze. "Off we go," she said quietly to Sunstreak, patting her neck. "Try not to lose sight of them," and they too set off.

Gandalf was right about his horse's unmatchable speed. Sunstreak kept close at his heels for a half hour but then Elraen had to let her horse slow its pace. But she kept within sight of them, or rather he took care to keep within sight of her, even if at times he was far ahead, and so on they rode as the day darkened. Eventually he slowed and rode with her for a while. Late into the night he told her to make for Weathertop before he sped off again. She kept Sunstreak going at a light trot through the night, trying to sneak in a doze while riding, something the wizard had suggested. Fortunately as an elf-horse Sunstreak was still sprightly the next morning, when Elraen could at last see Weathertop off in the distance.

It was further than it looked, and it took the rest of the day to get there even at a good canter. The afternoon sun was waning in the sky when she found Gandalf again at the top.

"Not bad for speed!" he said. "For I only arrived a few hours ago." He saw the weariness on her face. "Take a little rest while you can, for the worst is yet to come. I must try to keep them distracted here and away from my friends."

Distracted? Elraen began to ponder the wisdom of accepting his help. She didn't respond, and lay down and went to sleep. After a couple of hours he woke her again. "Keep alert," he said. "I desire to scout the area nearby. I shall return shortly."

Elraen sat up and faced the setting sun in the west, nibbling on some of the mariners' waybread she still had from the Havens as she watched the sun sink below the horizon and the sky grow dark. Sunstreak stood nearby, and started whinnying and stamping uncomfortably. Elraen stood up to see what the animal might be fussing about. Suddenly the horse let out a frightful neigh and bucked up high. The young lady grew concerned, pulling at the animal's reign and patting its neck. Then suddenly she felt it - a chill and foreboding presence that seemed to swell up all around her. Elraen looked over her shoulder and there they were already at the top of the hill: four robed figures, tall and dark as shadows on a moonless night, advancing on foot with their black horses not far behind. They stood in a half arc all about her, nearly surrounding her.

She gasped as her eyes widened, and her breath caught and her heart froze. The wind picked up, and in the distance thunder began to rumble. Thankfully Sunstreak though continuing to stamp and buck her head but was not so terrified as to bolt away. They stepped forward. Turning toward them she backed away until she stood against the horse's side, not quite sure now what to do. Though she remembered Gandalf's warnings to simply flee if they tried to come near, for they had powers beyond the grasp and strength of most mortals, she remained frozen where she was, still as a statue, as though her feet were fastened to the ground as they slowly closed in toward her.

As alarmed as she was Elraen felt something further bewildering and frightening, like she could sense their thoughts bending toward her mind, summoning her to come toward them, and she knew without thinking on it that they meant to seize her for questioning. Under her cloak her hand clasped the hilt of the dagger. Then something very strange happened. They halted.

For a long moment they stood, it felt like a week. 'Why have they stopped?' Elraen wondered to herself. Against all reason she tried something stupidly bold, and stepped forward.

The four all stepped back. Then she realized it: they were afraid. She could feel the shift in the mood, sensing their wonder and fear. The light! Of course. These ancient and deathless wraiths must be able to see it as the elves did.

Now the young shieldmaiden felt emboldened. Letting go of the dagger she cast back her cloak and pulled her sword. Gandalf had warned her that swords were of no use against them, but they had swords of their own, though she could not see them, so she readied for a defense. 'A good shield would also be helpful,' she thought to herself.

She took another step forward. They took another step back. She could feel their dismay and confusion. Clasping with her other hand the pouch holding the wand the strange young girl was able to do this much at least: cast a great blast of wind at them so fierce they struggled against it, just as the Wargs had done before in the mountains.

She let the wind slow a bit and they stood up straight again. Focusing her thoughts on the clouds Elraen was able to gather them overhead. Lightning struck down in all directions upon the flat ground in the distance. The enemies turned their heads, and seemed to be unnerved by the sudden storm. Then she remembered Gandalf's words about having to keep them distracted there. Calming herself back down she let the wind slow and the lightning taper.

Just then Gandalf returned upon Shadowfax, springing up to the top of the hill. But at the wizard's heels had followed the rest of the Riders. They were now surrounded by all nine.

"Stay close!" he said. She faced the ones behind them and kept the wind blustering and thunder rolling as much as she dared, while the lightning now seemed to strike upwards from the ground, with Gandalf's help. Finally at daybreak the pair mounted their horses and broke through the circle.

Off along the little river Hoarwell they rode hard northward for a couple of days, going just fast enough to keep them chasing. Elraen was now quite accustomed to little sleep, and getting better at sleeping while riding. At last when they approached the Ettenmoor hills the four still following gave it up and turned back, and they were able to slow down. Then Gandalf said they must release the horses from their service.

At this Elraen was grieved for she was very fond of Sunstreak. Now that she no longer feared these dark servants of shadow, the thought occurred to her to ride back toward the road alone. But, she decided to continue onward with the wizard, though not sure quite why, as though her future had something to do with it.

"Farewell now, Sunstreak," she said. "You may return home, or go with Shadowfax, or whatever you like." Sunstreak neighed a friendly neigh, then turned to catch up with Shadowfax, who was trotting off away westward. Elraen watched a long moment and hoped they would cross paths again. With that she turned to follow the wizard south with the great mountains upon their left, for the long march to Rivendell.


	12. Chapter 12

...

~ Rivendell ~

It was a long arduous march from the Ettenmoor hills down to Rivendell, and Elraen straggled far behind the wizard most of the way. After many days at last they reached the valley of the Last Homely House, descending upon it from the north. After introductions Gandalf straight away busied about meeting in private with Lord Elrond while Elraen was shown to a room. Her legs and feet ached, and she was very weary, and she slept long.

In the morning she woke and put on the fair blue dress she brought from the Havens, for her travel wear had been taken for cleaning. Gandalf went with her to Elrond's chambers to meet in private. Again she told her story as she had told it to Gandalf, saying only that she was the daughter of one of the princes of the Southern Kingdom and her foster father feared for her acceptance there, refraining from say more of herself or her adventures, and handed Elrond the sword in its sheath.

He held it, looking at it long, as though the sight of it stirred some ancient memories.

"Do you know it, Master Elrond?" she asked.

"Yes," he said as he handed it back. "I do know this sword. For it was wrought here in Rivendell. I gave it to him."

Elraen looked at him astonished. Even Gandalf was surprised.

"It was a gift to Elendil in honor of the Last Alliance. When Elendil fell Isildur received Narsil, and he gave this to Anarion's heir Meneldil. The southern kings were afterward buried with their long swords, but this became an heirloom passed down the line of Anarion as a memorial token of the Alliance. As the kings always preferred their long swords it would often remain rather forgotten in the royal treasury, or so last I heard many years ago when the northern kingdom still flourished, but some would take both to the field or let a princeling son wear it. Earnur the last king I remember had desired to carry both to battle here in the north and complained of his discovery that his father had hidden it from him."

"Well then, Lady Elraen," said Elrond. "While there are none now left alive to attest to your story, I have no doubt that you are who you say, if only by the good word of Lord Cirdan borne here recently by Galdor. More than that, it seems plain enough that you are indeed one of the last remaining heirs of the Royal House. What is it then that you ask of me?"

Elraen thought for a long moment. She was never sure what to expect once she completed the journey, and stammered a little to get out the words. "Well, I cannot quite say, Master Elrond. I never knew my father and mother, or anyone of Gondor, I only ever knew Lord Artamir. With his dying breath he gave me this sword and counseled that I seek the wise among the Elves. I had no ideas what I thought might come of it. But I found myself at a loss, with no country, no family, and nowhere else to go. So now, I am here."

The wise lore master was not unmoved, and took pity on her. "Fear not, child. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. And you do indeed have kin here still in the north of great worth whom you might like to meet. But soon other tales will be told and questions asked and decisions made. You may then find the guidance you seek."

*.*.*

Later that day she was approached by little Bilbo at Gandalf's request. He showed her around, going on almost breathlessly, making introductions and going over histories of the north of Middle-Earth including in-depth lessons on the Shire. Old Bilbo also went through all he knew of the Northern Dunadan Aragorn's family history and personal story.

'Isildur the elder,' Elraen thought to herself, 'So there is another heir after all, of an unbroken line at that. Betrothed as well, to hear Bilbo tell it.' Whatever reason she ended up here, it was not about the throne of Gondor, as regnant nor consort. For her part she was actually rather relieved, but now what? She felt more lost than ever.

That night in the waking dream state during what could be called rest for the Elves, to his thoughts the master of the house saw the image of a large fair island with several spurs, taking in a view toward the west. It was a clear early morning and he could see a long ways out on the sea, and he could spy the fair white sails of ships looking but tiny white flames in the distance. Further still he saw a bright light shining, glimmering in the morning sun. In the morning he rose in wonder and confusion, pondering his visions.

Early the following evening there arose quite a commotion through the great house, with bells sounding and echoing about the hills. Elraen was walking again with Bilbo, wearing now a dark green dress gifted from the elves of Rivendell, preparing to head for supper. All of a sudden Elrond came rushing through, his path then met by Gandalf. From another direction came Erestor. "They approach!" said Erestor. "And the Nine are close at hand!"

"I shall go out with your lords to help the guard," said Gandalf. Elrond nodded in agreement.

"I can help you!" Elraen jumped in.

"No!" Gandalf snapped anxiously as he was turning to go. "It is beyond you to stop them."

"It isn't!" she protested firmly.

The wizard then paused and looked at her in surprise, as did Elrond, for they found it a very strange response. Both of the wise old men knew well the girl had recently faced four of them alone on the hilltop. It could not simply be the foolhardiness of youth that would explain such a lack of fear.

There was no time to argue. "There will be no need," said Gandalf. "They will not cross the Ford!" And with that he dashed away.

"Lady Elraen," said Elrond, starting to wonder if her foster-father had been right indeed about the return of Westernesse, now not just in one heir but two. "I will go up to the high balcony. You may come with me to watch if you like."

"Go on, then!" said Bilbo. "We shall meet again later. I am no longer a match for those stairs."

Up she climbed many flights of stairs following the Master of the Last Homely House. Cut into a steep face of rocky hillside up on the west side of the valley it was not very high, but from it you could still see westward for many miles. Elrond stood with his eyes closed for a brief moment. And down in the valley off in the distance Elraen saw the deadly game unfolding, the elf lords of Rivendell rushing toward the river ford. Moments later there came the great rushing flood. She let out a sigh in relief. As he held his eyes closed Lord Elrond a new image brief and fleeting came to his mind, of a grand city, fair and white, upon a great hilltop, with the snow-covered peaks of terribly high jagged mountains all around. Now suspecting these visions to be connected to the girl he looked over at her, with a most curious wonder.

The next day the leaders among them were all very busy in treating and tending to Frodo. Not sure what else to do while they were all waiting, Elraen took her sword to Elrond's library to find what she could of the patterns, markings, and names on the scabbard, and go over lore of the northern kingdoms. There in the library was a very large tapestry, its embroidery wrought into a beautiful scene of lush plains amid which was a great hill, upon which stood a pair of enormous trees with pale pools at their feet. The sight struck her, and Elraen felt a twinge of sorrow come over her, and she stood staring at it for a long time. When the afternoon waned she wandered out onto one of the patios and gazed at the waterfalls a long while, the sword in its sheath slung over her shoulder. She pulled out the wand from the deep pocket in her dress and held it in her hands, thinking of Lord Artamir, and of her strange journey, and of Lord Cirdan. The skies grew overcast.

"Miss Elraen?" came a voice from behind.

Bilbo. "A pleasure to see you again, my friend," she said, slipping the little silver rod discreetly back into her pocket. "How fares your nephew?" she said quietly as she turned around. Her surprise was caught by the sight of a tall man standing by him.

"Master Elrond reports he is out of danger now, though still resting," replied the little old hobbit. "Thank you for inquiring. I have brought someone I thought you would like to meet."

"Lord Aragorn, I assume," she said softly, bowing her head with a small curtsy. She knew who it was, for he was just as Bilbo had described, tall and scruff from hard years in the wild but with a kind and kingly expression that inspired admiration from all who met him, and a sad and years-worn longing behind patient eyes.

The Ranger saw there a fair young girl not quite come of age, having not achieved quite the height his people usually did, but still bore the same solemn and statuesque manner. She looked rather melancholy, though he knew already there were many reasons for that.

"It seems Bilbo has told you of me," the Ranger said kindly with a bow of his head. "He has told me of you also. As has Master Elrond and Lord Galdor. The honor is mine."

"Forgive me, my lass, I have already told him much of your story," added Bilbo. "He is quite interested to see your sword."

"You are forgiven," said Elraen as she handed it over, "for I weary of telling it."

"Remarkable!" said the Ranger quietly as he unsheathed the fine weapon and looked it over. "Tell me, young lady," he went on, "did your foster-father send you here because he believed you to be the heir to the throne?"

His tone was not aggressive but gentle and inquisitive. She looked at him in wonder a moment, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, and cast down her eyes.

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. "My dear lord Aragorn," he began to protest, but Elraen interrupted. "It's alright, Bilbo," she said.

She lifted her head and sighed. "I suppose that part was not hard to guess," she replied. "Yes, he said as much, if no heir of Isildur appeared from the north. But, here you are."

"Here I am," he said with a smile. "And what is it that you want?" he asked, watching her face carefully.

She looked at him a long moment, as if searching herself for an answer to the question. "Well, lord, I don't quite know really," she started, and looked down, paused in thought for a moment. She felt the love and loyalty that most all felt upon meeting him, and she felt come over with a desire to follow him into whatever darkness and danger his road might lead. Then she stood now more resolute and said, "I want to help you. I do not yet know how, but I think it will not be from here."

He smiled warmly. "There are some left of the royal house in the world, Lady, but not very many. If your foster-father feared for your welcome in the south, be assured you are welcome here." The Ranger pondered the odd girl, whose words and manner belied her young face, but he knew the child had already been through much grief and toil for her short years. "You should think of a name for this," he said, handing the sword back to her.

At the festivities that night she was seated by the elves of the Havens. They were most interested to see her again, being still quite fascinated by all they'd heard from their friends the sailors. But they assured her that at Cirdan's request they would not speak anything they knew about her. She joined them in the merrymaking after the feast, and they taught her some of the verses most favored among elves, some of which she found strangely familiar and they wondered at the thought and confusion on her face.

The next morning the Chief of the Dunedain awoke in wonder at memories of fair and bewildering dreams of walking the gardens of a grand palace by the sea, and looking westward saw a lone mountain peak with the cone cut off flat just near the top. Wandering through it, he could see a fair city sprawling out on the hillsides beyond, and looking eastward he saw a harbor town by the sea in the distance, and knew he could not be any other place than Armenolos, the city of the downfallen West. In his dream as he walked astonished and spellbound by the sight, and he remembered stopping to notice the wind singing sweetly through its lush gardens of great trees, and wondered at the cheer it brought to his heart.


	13. Chapter 13

...

~ The Council ~

Elraen was invited to join the council, for she like many of the others had come from afar searching for answers. She sat near the wizard, her own sword across her lap, wearing her riding clothes again.

After introducing the Lord Boromir, Elrond introduced her briefly as "another traveler out of the south, the Lady Elraen. She carries the short sword of Meneldil which she inherited from her father Prince Tuor of Pelargir, of the royal house of the southern kingdom. I have invited her here because she also has journeyed far searching for answers." The man of Gondor looked on in wonder, curious what to make of her.

She rather liked the newcomer from the land of her mother and father, as she too had felt some offense at Elrond's remarks about the waning of Gondor and the mingling with 'lesser men'.

She grew a bit unnerved when Gandalf got to announcing what was written on the ring. She held her breath, and for a moment the clouds gathered overhead.

Later the Master of the Last Homely House posed the question again. "So child, do you know now what you desire to do?"

She looked at him a moment in thought. "Yes, Master Elrond," said Elraen, now more assured and resolute. "I desire to go to Gondor. For there it seems all roads lead, including mine. I think it would be best not to get there before Gandalf and his Fellowship do, but I would not tarry here long."

Elraen had tried to join the scouting trips but Aragorn wouldn't hear of it, and worried that she had too little fear. She had thought to protest but remembered Lord Cirdan's warning, and let the matter go.


	14. Chapter 14

...

~ Decisions ~

"I think I shall choose nine, to match the Nine of the Enemy. And you to lead them, corresponding to their own leader," said the Elf Lord.

The wizard nodded. "I should like to at least choose the girl to bring along, the maiden Elraen. She is resolved to go onward to Gondor in any case."

"Yes, she said as much. But, she is only a child," said Elrond, "and it is not custom to bring women on such journeys. We could send an envoy to Gondor separately afterward, assuming this plan works in our favor," replied the Master of the Last Homely House.

"She is near the same age as the other heir when he first went out into the wild," Gandalf countered. "And this is no customary Quest. I will take charge of looking after her. Besides I think she will not wait so long as that." He paused a moment, then shook his head and continued. "My heart tells me that she has a role to play, and that it has something to do with me. I feel she needs to come along with us."

The Elf lord's gentle glance gazed sidelong at the wizard in thought. At last he replied, "Strangely I cannot see much of either her past or future so your heart may foretell the better. I do sense something unusual about her, something of power I think, perhaps like what the Exiles called their magicians. I could not say from where it comes, and I would be wary of it but for the word of the Shipwright. Such gifts may well come of good use. In any case I suppose an heir for each kingdom would fit appropriately. Very well then, I yield to your judgment. The Wizard, leading the Nine Walkers." Master Elrond turned to look south along the mountains out a window, his thoughts heavy on the days to come.


	15. Chapter 15

...

~ Southward ~

Along with the reforging of Narsil the elves took also her sheath, and to the names inscribed on the scabbard they added 'Princess Elraen' to the end, the only maiden besides Miriel.

When they left the road Elraen worried, for she knew there were many fell things west of the mountains, but Aragorn assured her the land stretching out from Rivendell should be empty for a long way.

She walked along quietly most of the way, and set down her things a little apart, so as to maintain as much privacy as she could afford, also taking advantage of her turn on watch to accomplish some small level of ablutions.

Upon starting up the Redhorn Pass it was the first time she tried to stop the wind rather than start it. Elraen met with some success at first, but it did not last long. As they huddled together against the cliff wall she clasped at the wand in its pouch where it hung toward the back of her hip where she now kept it under her coat, and tried to fight the fell winds and snow, but found she was no match for this mountain.

They finally descended to safety, and Boromir protested bitterly at the mention of Moria. The risk of Orcs was low, Gandalf insisted. "Nay," Elraen pushed back, "Orcs remain in these mountains. But, it seems the mines are as good a path as any."

As the group was discussing the best course, Elraen stood a little ways apart, gazing out anxiously in the darkness, for she thought but wasn't sure that she'd heard the faint whistling sound of howls hidden behind wind and distance. Then Aragorn learned that her worries proved right - there were indeed many fell things west of the mountains, and the Wargs were on the hunt. Standing in their hilltop clearing she saw it - a great wolf with a strange mark across his brow - the very same Warg she encountered a ways south of here months ago. He was looking straight at her and indeed seemed to remember. With the memory of experience still fresh in her mind she felt calmer than she might otherwise have been. Without taking her gaze off him she slowly pulled her dagger out of its sheath, with her side turned from him, and readied for the pounce. Then everything happened at once: Gandalf shouted, the beast sprang, Legolas' arrow flew, and her dagger dug into its ribs as it fell upon her and pushed her to the ground.

The moment didn't last long. The attack was coming from all around and before she knew it her sword had run through another two. She again found herself wishing she had a shield. All the while trying to keep pushing the wind until Gandalf set the ring of trees afire and the battle ended.

Late the next day at last they found the western wall of the mines. Elraen could not begrudge Lord Boromir his frustration, she felt much the same at the moment. In vain she tried too late to keep him from throwing the stone into the water, and before they knew it they were trapped in the stuffy gloomy blackness of the mines.

The first sound of the drums came when they finally stopped to rest. "That is not comforting," she muttered quietly, though it echoed about the room for all to hear. The mines hadn't bothered her too terribly as yet, but now she began to worry.

On the third day came the attack upon the records room. "The lady was not wrong," confessed Gandalf. "There are Orcs, many of them."

'Now my childhood training is put to the test!' Elraen thought to herself, pulling the sword from its sheath, its blade shimmering as it caught the rays of the morning sun. The sight of the numerous Orcs pouring in was a little unnerving, but at least she had some little experience of them already, and the steadiness of the leaders helped her calm her own nerves.

To her surprise fighting Orcs was easier than she expected, for they were disorganized and poorly trained. Again she found herself wanting a good shield, and ended up putting both of her blades to use. But the Orcs didn't seem much interested in attacking her, so she only managed to fell one before the orc-chieftain burst in and bore down against them.

"Boromir!" she cried and sprang forward with a swing of her sword, managing a slash above its knee. That earned her a fierce backhanded swing of the chieftain's great arm, so swift and powerful she flew stumbling back several feet into a bank of weapons stored against the wall, after which he deftly ducked the swing of Aragorn's sword. Thankfully the old weapons were all extremely old and very brittle, and cracked and crumbled at her weight, and she received only an array of cuts and scratches upon her neck and arms. But her clothes snagged on the edges and when she got up nothing she wore was not half covered in little rips and tears, even her boots. She picked up her weapons and turned to help Legolas pull Gimli away from the tomb of Balin.

At last they passed through the eastern exit. Then she could feel it through the closed door - something not unlike the fearful air that surrounded the ring wraiths, but far more powerful. "Do you feel that? What is it?" she wondered aloud in a whisper, catching her breath.

Gandalf looked at her curiously a moment, but then he bade them all go on ahead to which Aragorn protested.

"I can help you!" Elraen chimed up. She was not sure what she could do to help down here in the mines, but perhaps whatever it was might also be nervous about her, too.

"Go! This is beyond all of you!" he declared sternly.

"It's not!" she protested, again.

The wizard was now thoroughly perplexed. "I have no time to argue. Go!" he said, looking to Aragorn for help.

"Come, child, please," said Aragorn, also pondering her assertions, and trying to herd her away with a nudge. Reluctantly she moved off down the stairs where they waited until their leader came flying down after them.

In the great hall she was standing by Legolas when the great foe appeared. She bent down and picked up the arrow the elf had dropped, ready to hand it back, but before she knew it they were running across the bridge.

Gandalf had turned back halfway across to hold off the evil creature. There was naught to do but watch the altercation helplessly. She stared at the barely visible form of flaming black shadow and wondered why the whole scene felt so familiar. It all made her feel more puzzled than frightened.

"This is hopeless!" cried Boromir over to Aragorn. "There is neither fighting nor running!"

Trapped. Elraen wondered what now could be done, the two upon the bridge seemed stuck in stalemate. Every move the wizard made the enemy seemed ready to counter, and she began to wonder if she should urge the hobbits out the door, for the quest still had to go on. She clasped the pouch carrying her wand. The arrow was still in her other hand. Then an idea came to her. She couldn't have explained what put it in her mind to do it, but she took the wand out and with the strap of its little pouch wound it round the arrow.

"Legolas," she said, shoving the arrow at him, "shoot it!"

He looked over and saw the silver rod, very giving faintly glowing glimmer. It caught him so by surprise he stopped a moment and stared at it in wonder.

"Shoot it!" she cried again. The Elf prince took the arrow and dashed a few steps forward, and in an instant it was sailing through the air with a trail of glittering light. Then with a bright flash the arrow bearing the wand buried deep into what looked to be the creature's chest.

It let out a deafening shriek. It was weakened. And for the blink of an eye it was distracted. At last Gandalf had his advantage and smote the bridge.


	16. Chapter 16

...

~ Onward ~

When the company at last halted to catch their breath in the bright sunshine outside, she was among those who stood quiet, shocked numb by all that had just happened. Elraen turned sullenly to face the gate they had just fled, which now looked a tiny hole from where they stood.

Elraen felt suddenly a bewildering desire to go back in. She stared at the gate with such a focus she did not hear Aragorn spurring them to keep moving. She felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder. "Lady," said a voice gently. "We must move on."

Boromir. She turned to her comrade with a bittersweet smile, then hung her head and turned to walk onward.

The great champion of Gondor pondered the curious young orphan and all he'd seen and heard about her since Rivendell. She was so young but even he had to admit she had earned the use of her priceless weapons. A thought sprang into his mind unbidden, the old memory of a fireside story from his youth: the legend of a child warrior who once challenged alone the powerful enemy of an age long past, and was felled but did not die, later returning to take up the hunt to help the gods bring him to justice. The hero never had a name.

When they at last stopped for a break so Aragorn could tend to Sam and Frodo, Legolas finally asked, "What was that thing you tied to the arrow, Lady Elraen?"

She had been sitting holding a cloth dipped into the athelas water against the back of her neck, staring sullenly into the fire as if in a trance. After a silent moment she looked up and replied wearily, "That? Just a piece of silver."

"Nay, Lady!" said Gimli, "That was something very special. It glittered like the Arkenstone of Thrain, the Heart of the Lonely Mountain."

"And the air about it was pure and wholesome," added Legolas, "there was a strong power I felt from it, of pure light and good. How came you by it?"

"It was a gift," she replied quietly, gazing back at the fire, "from the Lord of the Havens."

At that the two Men also looked up with some wonder, for they both knew of the Havens and the Shipwright.

"It must have been difficult to part with so precious a gift," said Gimli.

Elraen sighed. "A small price to pay," she said sadly, without looking up.

Now Frodo looked up at that response, then turned away in thought. Aragorn's face softened, and he almost smiled. "Indeed, lady!" he said, "the smallest paid today. Without that token the creature may well have won the bridge."

At last they came across the Nimrodel stream. On Legolas' suggestion Elraen took her boots off to wade across in her bare feet. The cool water indeed was refreshing to her after such a long weary and grievous journey.

At last they came to Caras Galedhon and climbed up the great tree, and came into the hall of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. As soon as she set her eyes upon them, Elraen felt another stir of recollection come over her. She felt as though she should know them, like she recognized them both. When the Lady turned her probing gaze to Elraen, the young girl almost thought she saw a slight, nearly imperceptible hint of confusion flash across the Lady's face. Then she perceived just one question: 'Who are you?'

That Elraen found unnerving, even frightening. For she had asked herself that many times, and even now deep down the answer remained the same: she still had no idea.

But Elraen was not present to hear the others discuss their experience of the Lady's probing gaze. For she had been shown to a low, covered and curtained flet of her own not far from the pavilion. She bathed and changed and sank into the cushions for a sounder sleep than she'd had since Rivendell.

When she woke Elraen found some simple dress garments such as elf women there were accustomed to wear laid ready for her. A few days later there was left for her a fine grey dress and a pair of very beautiful gold and silver pins for her hair, wrought in the shape of leaves and adorned with white gems that caught any light and cast it about with a dazzling brilliance. Wearing it all she indeed could almost blend in among the elves of the Golden Wood.

Like the others she mostly spent the time there enjoying the chance to rest and recover. Nearly every evening she found herself up high on a hill at sunset gazing intently at the western horizon, as if she were half expecting something to appear on it. Throughout their stay the Lady's question sat heavy on her mind.

After many days the son of the Steward began to notice this. He thought of his mother, who was also of the royal lines, and who would gaze ever southward toward her home by the sea. But there the similarities ended, for this maiden had faced many evils with a steadier hand than many a green young soldier back home could manage. Then he thought of his father the Steward, who in recent years grew anxious for more heirs and began pressing him to marry. Boromir for his part resisted this at every turn, for his passion had only ever been combat and the battlefield his only mistress.

The girl was very young, and looked even younger; a better age for his brother, he thought, whose temperament would be better suited in any case. At the same time he also began to think about how important heirs could be, if you cared for continuity of rule and good order.

The fearless champion was suddenly aware of how long his mind had strayed into thoughts of marriage. He rebuked himself sharply with a shake of his head. Considering the way things were now going, there looked to be no point left anyway.

On one of the last nights of their stay he had many dreams, several dark and dreadful, of the Enemy's vast forces sweeping over the Pelennor fields and besieging the mighty Tower of the Sun. The last thing he dreamt was sitting upon the grass there in Lorien, his heart heavy over the great darkness and loss of the days to come. There the girl appeared and sat nearby and said simply, "Please my friend, do not despair, and have faith in the wisdom of your friends and leaders." Then a voice called out, a request from the Elves, and the girl stood and departed. Boromir awoke bewildered to learn that Elraen had been summoned to see the Lady Galadriel.

It was nearly time to move on, and Galadriel had invited Elraen to look in the mirror. "It may offer an answer to the question that has weighed on you the whole of your life: who are you, really?"

Elraen looked at the Lady a moment then walked over and looked in. She saw several scenes flash by, her old homestead on the high plains, armies bustling about Orthanc Tower, stark white walls looking over a vast open field swarming with Orcs and armies of men with torches under a black sky, looking up at her foster father as a younger man, the lonely wedding of a young couple in the moonlight. Then suddenly the scenes were very different, the landscape did not look like anything she'd seen in Middle-Earth. There were vast and wondrous mansions of stone cut right into mountain sides, endless forests of brilliant and everlasting green trees, and finally an enormous mountain of terrifying beauty, taller than anything else anywhere in the world. Elraen could scarcely breathe, feeling the memories surfacing. Then one more scene: an old tower atop a fog-covered hill, and inside a young man with pale brown hair dressed in grey, presenting a leather pouch with a gleaming silver rod inside.

It all came flooding back. Everything she ever knew, everything she had ever done, going back all the way to sitting in emptiness, singing in chorus with her brethren. Elraen looked up, her face showing a mind and heart submerged in and overwhelmed by the past. Then though no sound came from her mouth her mind let out a cry of such a force that the Lady heard it loud and clear. Just one word: "Olorin!" she cried, and with a flash of bright firelight that was able to startle even the Lady of the Wood, fainted upon the ground.


	17. Chapter 17

...

Part Four

~ Awakened ~

Elraen awoke on the floor of the garden and gathered herself up. She sat upon her knees, gazing at the grass with her head hung low for a long moment.

'Did you find your answer?' she heard a voice say in her mind.

The girl looked up at the Lady. She stood back up solemnly, and a peacefulness filled the area for miles around, lifting the heartbroken among Elf and Man alike.

'Yes,' she replied solemnly, with no words spoken aloud. 'I am Princess Marya, sister of Manwe King of the Lords of the West, wielder of the elements of the Chief Powers, and High Guardian of Valinor.'

The Lady knelt down and bowed her head a moment. 'It is my honor to host Her Highness here,' she looked back up and replied.

Then the lost princess' face softened in grief and she cast down her gaze, and she was a little mortal maiden again. "Oh why ever did I come here?" she uttered softly to herself.

"Why did you come here, Your Highness?" the Lady of the Wood stood back up and asked. Elraen looked up, guessing the Lady may have seen some answers in the mirror for herself already.

Elraen thought for a moment. "I came here to help," she replied.

"That you've done," the Lady assured her, "if you do not remember the events in the mines. You came here because you knew that Mithrandir would have precious little help left to him, is that not correct? Will you not now continue to help as you set out to do?" she asked.

The Princess thought back to the mines. How foolish had she been, to think she could waylay something Mandos foresaw? Now their leader and dearest of comrades had perished, but the Quest remained unfinished.

The girl at last was able to master herself. "Yes, I will do that," she replied quietly. "Thank you, Lady Galadriel."

"I have something else for you," Galadriel continued, "Come!" and she led the young princess off to her own quarters, and handed the girl a folded cloth with a bundle inside. "For your travel onward, Ainulewing Hinohtarien," she said. "This fabric was wrought long ago by my people at the height of their skill back in the West. Alas I yet had a small store of it still left." Inside was a fine set of new clothes, very like what she had before - breeches and a fitted and collared long tunic, again skirted about the calves, made of beautiful but strong and sturdy grey Elven samite, which could look pale as a slate flagstone under the bright noon sun, glittering as if the evening stars were woven into it, or dim as grey stream rocks at dusk at need, the edges of which were embroidered subtly with dim pale gold thread. Near to the sturdiness of a good mail hauberk it was, woven in with both silver and steel, but far more comfortable and fair to look on. She was also furnished with a belt of silver and pair of grey boots, and the Elven cloak the Lady later also gave to the others. The handmaids then brought out a small wooden chest.

"I have little fit to give Her Highness of the Lords of the West," said Galadriel as she opened the chest. "But such as I have I offer to you. I no longer will use this, but it may be helpful for you."

Elraen looked in and she gasped, for there lay none other than the cuirass armor wrought in a forgotten age for the members and friends of the Watchguard of the Undying Realm. The intricately wrought steel cuirass plated in white gold with yellow gold trim likewise cast the morning sunlight with a brilliant radiance. Yet like the tunic it could change at need: it's shine seemed to grow to the wearer's mood and measure of power like snow under the sun on a clear morning, or dim to the color of alabaster in the shade at twilight. And when donned it seemed to adjust itself according to the wearer's size and stature. "The rest of this set of armor, I'm afraid," she added, "was lost in the journey over the Helcaraxe. But I have supplied a coif should you find a fitting substitute for the helmet. I will have this all brought to your flet." Elraen smiled, and returned the bow in gratitude.

After that they spoke for a while, and Elraen offered tidings of the Lady's kin in the West. "Alas I am of two minds," confessed the maiden. "Long I desired to walk the untamed lands of Middle-earth, with the challenge of walking in such a raiment as this. But though I have not walked long by your measure, mortal life is brief: bitter and weary work full of uncertainty and loss and small fleeting moments of happiness as one can find. I find I already miss the splendor of my home and family who dwell there. You seem to miss this land as well, do you at long last feel ready to return?"

The Lady paused in thought for a long while before she finally answered. "Yes, Princess," she said, "after many long ages my heart at last grows weary of the wilds and longs for the bliss of my birth place. But though I now desire to return I shall not, while our enemy has yet to be defeated.

"Indeed, Lady," replied the young maiden. "Nor shall I. But who now can say how long that will be? For the sake of all, not very long now, I hope."

*.*.*

As they prepared to leave Elraen spoke with Aragorn, offering to accompany Frodo into the Dark Land, if he preferred to go onward to Gondor. For herself she felt best fit to help the Ring-Bearer through the last and worst leg of the journey anyway, knowing she was feared by Orcs and the Nine alike. Additionally she guessed that in the event she were slain she would either simply be recalled to her home or be free to take form as any element she deemed appropriate to continue aiding the Free Peoples. All that she kept to herself. "For we are both heirs of Elendil," she said, "and as such brethren I am honored to share your burdens."

Aragorn was touched and impressed by the offer, and also quite curious for she said this as calmly as if she were offering to fetch him tea. He held her gaze for a moment, but saw nothing in her voice or face suggesting some foolish motive, like a youthful desire to achieve great renown.

All things considered she did oddly seem a suitable choice for the task, being shorter in stature and well weathered for dangerous travel he expected she could manage stealth fairly well, and having a strangeness about sensing the enemy that could well come useful. But he was still at a loss, torn between his desire to go to Minas Tirith and feeling obliged to guide and protect Frodo himself, both as Isildur's heir and from not wanting to send the strange young girl into further danger.

Then the morning came when they packed up to leave, and the Elves brought more spare clothes and supplies. Galadriel appeared with a last farewell and more gifts.

"For you, Elraen daughter of Prince Tuor," she said, "I understand you have been in want of a shield. So I pass to you mine own from my youth, wrought in a place and time now long forgotten." And she presented a small round shield that matched the cuirass now hidden beneath the cloak. None were unmoved by the sight of it gleaming in the noon sun, with a small golden V embossed in Elf lettering upon the gold-rimmed white field. Even the elves nearby to see were surprised at such a gift, some having never even seen it before. Elraen bowed low to take it, and hung it to the hook on the scabbard strap under the cloak. She climbed into the last boat with Legolas and Gimli, and thought of her journey in a little boat on the other side of the mountains a half year ago.

Early into the journey upon the river Boromir woke her to take over the watch. She sat and gazed eastward in silence over the river. But the son of the Steward tossed and turned, restless and tormented, and sat up briefly. "This quest is cursed!" he muttered lowly. "What can it lead to but death and ruin."

Elraen was not sure if he was talking to her or just to himself, but she was distressed by his words. "Please, Boromir," she turned and said to him, "Do not despair; have faith in the wisdom of your leaders and friends."

He looked over at her astonished, for she spoke the very same words in a dream but a couple of weeks earlier. Then suddenly he calmed and his face softened, and for the rest of that night at least his worries subsided and sleep took him.

On the eighth night as they approached the rapids Legolas, Gimli, and she cried out "Yrch!", "Orcs!", and "Goblins!" all at once, and the brief attack began as they battled furiously against the current. When they at last found relief on the western shore, Elraen turned to Aragorn as Legolas sprang up the hillside.

"Do you feel that?" she asked in a fearful and confused whisper as she caught her breath, "What is that?"

Aragorn looked at her curiously in reply, and with new worry, when suddenly Legolas cried out, and let his arrow fly, and the attack ended.

"Who could say what it hit?" he asked.

"Something dark and fell for sure. I could feel it's dreadful energy from afar," she replied, as the dwarf chimed in with his answer.

After that Elraen tried discreetly to keep them under cover of cloud as best she could, thinking of the clouds, and the rain, and of when she once dwelt with a vast thick mist upon the ground, and how she felt then and why. This however at times resulted in more cumbersome weather than bargained for.

Finally they passed the Argonath, and Elraen looked upon the great stone kings. A flush of memories washed over her mind, of the tall and powerful lords of Numenor of old, sailing the seas in their grand ships and leaving their striking landmarks along the coasts and rivers of Middle-earth. She could not help but feel the pride and majesty of the royal line stir her mortal heart.


	18. Chapter 18

...

~ Battle by the Falls ~

The last night of traveling the river they camped upon Parth Galen. Elraen drew the final watch, and sat gazing east in a foreboding mood as the sun broke red through the distant fire and smoke.

In the morning as the rest of the company sat around chatting she stood apart, not far from their circle, again staring eastward while they all discussed what to do next. Aragorn thought it might be best if she went onward with Boromir, along with the other hobbits perhaps, to meet her kin and help as she could.

Elraen did not answer, not wishing to argue. In truth she had little desire to go to Gondor without their leader, not knowing quite what help she could give or what sort of welcome she might find there, especially with Boromir in such a strange and distressed state. That's when suddenly Sam noticed the man of Gondor was missing.

At that moment something strange happened. While standing there awake under a bright morning the young maiden felt suddenly as if a sleeping dream had overcome her. She closed her eyes, confused, though the strange feeling brought no vision. She heard Legolas ask if she was feeling unwell, but it sounded distant and muffled. Then suddenly she heard a strange voice calling out. 'Take it off!' it kept crying. It sounded somehow near and far at the same time. It felt familiar, but hard to remember, like a voice she had not heard in a thousand years. She knew it not but hope leapt in her heart at the sound of it.

The waking dream passed as the others finished talking when Boromir reappeared, leaving everyone wondering what could have happened. Her memory now stretched back far enough to know that such powerful and shiny things could inspire a madness of desire in the stoutest hearts even among the Elves.

Aragorn bade him go collect the other hobbits, and Boromir took off after them with great speed. Sam ran off with Aragorn. Legolas and Gimli after them. Elraen was left standing by the little beach alone, and thought she might simply stay there, in case Frodo returned. That might be her opportunity to help Frodo scuttle off. Surely the wizard would have approved such a course. Aragorn would be freed to go off to Gondor to do whatever kingly proving himself he needed to do, and worry the less for it. But then in the distance she began to hear a faint clamor. Now she felt conflicted. 'Frodo could be there now in trouble,' she thought. 'I should go toward it, or there might be no slipping off at all,' and she jogged off in the direction of the din.

The commotion grew louder. Then a great blast of noise shook the rocks and trees. Boromir's horn! The enemy strikes! It sounded again, so strongly it shook the inside of her ears - he wasn't far now. The little princess sped up, and pulled out her shield. In a few minutes she came within sight of the mighty warrior, his sword flying and Orcs dropping all around him. Suddenly he faltered. She lost sight of him through the trees for a moment, then sped up and finding him again threw up her arms to catch him just as he fell back. And she saw it: many arrows sticking from his chest. Her eyes widened and for a moment she was frozen in horror. The tumult roared up around them and shook her out of it, and she helped him pull back by a tree.

Elraen knelt down in front of him with her shield held up, took her dagger and handed it to her injured comrade, as the Orcs who had backed away at his attack started closing in again. He took it, and a moment later shoved something small and round into her hand in return. With no time to stop and look she shoved it into her pocket.

The little shieldmaiden closed her eyes for a half moment and thought of a time long forgotten, racing through the labyrinth of deep tunnels alone to confront an ancient foe. Flinging back her cloak she pulled her sword and jumped up to attack. Around she danced as the wind whipped about. She felled several, her sword swinging and armor flashing in the sun's rays streaming through the evergreen trees.

Now the Orcs slowed their attack and held back around her several paces, for besides her defenses they could also now see what the Elf mariners had once seen but closer and more terrifying. Within and all about her it was almost as a great fire burning, seeming close and afar at the same time, as from the deeps of the earth or the heights of the night sky, a flame so bright it made the sun seem dim, and they were struck still by the fear of being burned up by it.

Boromir from where he lay watching the scene thought of old legends of the shield maidens of the Rohirrim, fighting in last defense of their families when the men had been slain. He let out a weary smile.

The Captain of Gondor blew the horn a few more times but his wind now faltered. Elraen stood, facing down the crowd of enemies, feeling a bit pleased with herself so far, wondering if the great Tulkas could see her now, when she felt at the back of her neck a little sting. Her sword dropped, landing by the fallen warrior's feet, and everything went black.

*.*.*

Boromir told Aragorn of the Orcs taking the halflings. "And the girl. She was struck by a dart and they sacked her. They are not dead I think." He shoved the dagger into the Ranger's hand, and said no more.

Nearby Aragorn found also her sword unharmed where it had fallen. Like the hobbits' weapons the Orcs had feared to touch it. He picked it up and wrapping it up in some spare clothes carried it with his things and after the hasty funeral, they set off.


	19. Chapter 19

...

~ The Hunt ~

"Let us go on!" said Legolas. "The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart."

"And the young maiden," Gimli muttered angrily, "bound and bagged like hunter's prey. Off we go!"

*.*.*

"Indeed we know of the ambassador's ward," said Eomer as he responded to Aragorn's story, in which he told of a daughter of Gondor raised a shield maiden in Rohan. "Last we heard the house was abandoned with one fresh grave by it, and it was assumed the old widower had passed of weariness. We wondered what became of the maiden, it was feared she was taken or killed by Dunlandings or worse, living so dangerously close to the Gap. But we found no women or children."

"Nay," said Aragorn, "she was not taken then, but journeyed northward alone after the ambassador died, and found us in Imladris. Gandalf insisted on her joining the quest. She has proven worthy, for she is also of the House of Elendil. But she has been taken now." Eomer and his companions looked back in wonder. The conversation then continued until the three remaining of the Company resumed the search on their borrowed horses. At last they began to find clues of what happened to the hobbits, "but no hint as to the fate of the maiden," said Aragorn, thinking out loud. "She may have been carried the whole journey having been struck by a dart." He thought on it a moment. "But the Rohirrim also found no trace of her."

"If she was felled by a dart, why did they not leave her?" asked Gimli.

"The dart may not have been poisoned enough to be deadly," said Legolas. "It seems plain enough what Saruman would want with the hobbits. But what would the enemy want with her?"

"I do not know," Aragorn said gravely with a shake of his head. "All I can guess is she was taken by a different group, by a different route. One or both of our enemies apparently finds some value in capturing her." He furrowed his brow in dismay. "I fear to guess her fate any further."

What none saw happen at the battle in the woods was that Elraen was handed off by the Uruk half-breeds to Wolf-Riders who were also the source of the dart. For after her encounters with the Wargs and the Nazgul wild rumors of a powerful enchantress had quickly spread far and wide among Orc kind and none would approach her too near least of all agree to bear her. "This is no ordinary brat of Men kind!" they muttered to each other in Orc tongue. "Surely this is the fell witch haunts the mountains!" said others.

The Uruk Hai had the boldness at least to bag her up, but they also feared to be near when she woke, and passed her off to the wolf-riders of Isengard. The wolf-riders were just as wary and strapped her bagged up to her own wolf alone, struck a different path to the north upon their sure footed wolf steeds. Along the rocky riverside under cover of low trees a long while they went very swiftly, before veering northwest toward the mountains. Then under cover of nightfall the wolf riders crossed crossed the East Emnet, slowing but a little as they passed through the Fangorn, and reached Isengard just as the two hobbits were escaping their captors.

*.*.*

Pippin struggled to recall everything. "Kill all but the halflings, and the girl," he heard. 'The girl!' he thought. He'd remembered seeing young Elraen appear, across the wood behind Boromir, but at the distance amid the great crowd of Orcs at hand she disappeared just as quickly and he wasn't sure what had become of her, either. He looked around but could find naught of her.

All the way into the Fangorn forest the hobbits still saw no sign of her. In any case in the midst of the attack by the horsemen at night there was no chance to stop and look.


	20. Chapter 20

...

~ The Forest ~

The three hunters at last found their long lost leader, and pressed him for an explanation of his return. The old man quickly told his story.

"There was one light that struggled to shine in that bitter cold realm of utter blackness from where it lay within the creature, but shine it did, however dim and muted. And when at last the beast turned to run from me I was thus able to follow it, keeping ever at its heels," he said, continuing the story up the Endless Stair to the top of the Silvertine. After passing away and wandering long through dark realms, "I heard a voice call my name," he said, "the name I have not heard since my youth in the West. I stopped and turned to hear it, like an anchor it was on my mind, and I moved toward it. Then suddenly I woke, returned for a short time to finish my task," he said, going on about lying upon the mountain top for days. "Then Gwaihir set me down at Caras Galadhon his lieutenant landed also, and opening his beak set something at my feet. 'This little thing shone so brightly in the snow it caught our eye from afar and led us quickly to where you lay,' he said. For it was none other than the little rod of silver, the magic wand as mortals might call it, borne by the maid you know as Elraen, without which the quest may well have ended in ruin already." Indeed its glowing shine had caught Galadriel's eye from where she stood high upon the tower flet as the eagles came down to meet with her, and so she asked them to go spy out the mountain tops. Then the wizard had then picked up the wand and held it long, looking at it joyous and astonished, at last discovering the answer to the riddle of the mysterious young orphan, but that part he kept to himself.

It was good then also that he had ended up with the wand for a while, for as he held it he felt his spirit lift and his strength rejuvenate as it had once done for her. It was thus he was able to continue onward from Lorien just a few days after he arrived.

"Lady Elraen!" said Gimli. "Have you seen aught of her?"

"We have found no trace of her," added Aragorn.

Gandalf looked up at them, his face grew grave again. "No, I've had no news on her whereabouts." He went silent a moment.

"Best I can guess is that she was not slain but taken by a different foe by a different route," said Aragorn.

"What say you Gandalf?" asked Gimli. "Why would either enemy want to keep her alive?"

"Is it aught to do with the strange air of power I sense about her? The same I felt of the wand?" asked the Elf.

Gandalf looked up at them. "It took me a while to figure it out," he replied with a nod, "for even she did not know herself before Lorien. But you are on the right track, Legolas, for it is the same reason my heart told me to bring her along without quite knowing why. You see, she is one of The Wise too, of course."

They all looked at him stunned, and he continued.

"She wields much power, but even now it is very muted. Whichever enemy might have captured her might try to coerce her into his employ. But such an outcome is unlikely; it would be beneath her to serve either of them. I think, though, they would both also fear to kill her, or to leave her free upon the field. Imprisonment is the last option, not knowing what else to do with her."

A silence fell over the group. The three found Gandalf's explanation very strange and cryptic, as was his wont, and worrisome, but also wondrous and mystifying. Suddenly the young mortal orphan was now, for reasons they could not understand, grouped with the ancient and powerful Order of the Wise. Aragorn wondered at the name she had chosen for her sword, Power of the West.

Gandalf sighed, "I cannot say if she remains in danger, but the eagles cannot see all places at all times. Something tells me she will be alright. In any case her fate is also out of our hands. Come, now! For our part there is still much we have the power to do." And off they headed to Edoras.


	21. Chapter 21

...

~ A Princess in a Tower ~

When she woke Elraen found herself in a strangely calm and quiet scene. Above her was a black stone ceiling, visible by a cool light coming in dim through a small window on the wall. She sat up suddenly. Looking around she saw she was in a small room furnished with the bed on which she sat, a small table and chair, and there was a tub full of steaming water along the opposite wall. Against the foot of the bed on the floor leaned her shield and scabbard.

Elraen jumped up in a start. The last thing she remembered was battling Orcs in the woods near the Emyn Muil. She was still wearing everything she'd had on, including the riding garments and armor given to her by Galadriel. She went to the door but discovered it locked.

Out the window in the early morning light she could see many hills covered in evergreen trees, and peeking out from close behind them she could see the tops of snow capped mountains. The window was just big enough to lean partly out of. It was a good hundred feet to the ground. Below she saw a multitude of shacks, houses, roads, carts, holes, and quarry pits with a crowd of all sorts busying about already making quite a racket at this early morning hour. A ways beyond there was a large wall forming a great curve encircling the area. Isengard.

Saruman. He must have taken the lesson on keeping prisoners on the roof. She was too low to be easily noticed by the eagles, and too high to jump safely. She was in a room facing north, away from the entrance. As she stood defeatedly looking around the room she sighed and shoved her hand in her pockets. In one pocket were the beautiful hair pins of Galadriel, in the other she felt a small round metal thing, and pulled it out. It was a small silver medallion that fit in her palm, like a very large coin, hanging from a fine chain. It looked a very valuable and beautiful thing: within its circle was wrought the image of a tower with a ship before it upon the sea, and a great swan with a little pearl set at the bird's breast, flying over all. Elraen held it, gazing at it long, and suddenly she remembered: Boromir had shoved something into her hand during the battle.

He must have worn it under his layers. She sank into the little chair and held it limply upon her lap. "Oh, Boromir," she sighed. Long she sat with her head bowed, grieving in silence. She wondered if any of the others had escaped or even survived.

Elraen heard the clinks of iron at the door and jumped back to her feet and shoved the pendant back into her pocket. In hobbled a thick older woman, small and rustic clad with graying brown hair. She came in carrying a large steaming kettle, and stopped over the tub to empty its contents. The woman gestured to her. "I clean," said a rough voice in the Common Tongue, and then the woman hobbled out the door and shut it. Dunlander? Elraen heard the lock clicking back in place.

She noticed a tray on the table with a silver cover. Inside there was a fine array of food on a small platter, including fresh bread, hard cheese, sliced meats, nuts, and dried fruit, and an adjacent cup of tea. Elraen suddenly noticed how hungry she was. She sat down and quickly finished it all, wondering how long she'd been sleeping.

Deciding she may as well get comfortable for the moment, she took advantage of the tub. The woman returned while she was in it and took all the clothes, leaving behind a chemise. After the bath on another small table she found a comb and brush and other such grooming items, along with a looking glass on a stand. She looked at her reflection, for the first time since Lorien, and as she pondered the appearance of her mortal raiment, Elraen suddenly very alone and was overcome with a feeling of missing her home and kin very deeply. She knew at least her brother was watching over all, and turned to gaze out the window again, wishing it faced westward.

A few hours later the woman came back with another tray of food and a cup of wine for lunch. She scurried out and the door was locked again. Elraen wondered why she was getting such fine treatment as a prisoner. And of course why she was a prisoner at all, and what to do now.

The sun was now low in the sky, and the shadows outside grew long. She was gazing out the window again, and in the distance she thought she heard the sound of soft bright whinnying from beyond the wall. Before she could ponder on it another knock came on the door then it opened. The old woman entered and placed a pile of freshly cleaned folded clothes on the chair, then gestured for the captive to come forth. "You come," she said. Elraen put back on everything: clothes and armor, sheath, shield, and cloak, and stepped out. Standing outside in the hall were two armed men. One gestured to the stairs. The lost daughter of Gondor went ahead of them down a few flights, the old woman leading the way. At last the woman gestured to a doorway. Elraen walked through big double doors into a large round room with a large window facing south overlooking the main gate in the distance, the last bit of orange sunlight angling through. The walls had carvings of intricate patterns and there were beautiful patterns of smooth dark tiles on the floor. The men left the room and stood outside.

"Welcome," said a low resonant voice from a wall in shadow across the room. Out stepped the wizard, his shimmering robe casting the low light in many colors. "Princess Elraen, is it? I am Saruman, the White Wizard, chief of my order. Please do not be alarmed, and excuse the manner in which you were brought here. The attack on the falls I received news of from my scouts and birds of service, and I sought to bear you away from the danger of the company you were keeping as swiftly as possible. For are you not one of the heirs of Elendil the Faithful who helped defeat Sauron many long years ago? The servants of Mordor were your attackers; certainly you would be on your way there now, captive, if not for my intervention."

"There have been rumors swirling around of a powerful witch haunting the mountains, with flames for eyes and lightning bolts for hands. I guessed that it must be you, based on the description of a young girl of black hair and grey eyes, and based on my knowledge that among your illustrious ancestors the mighty Numenoreans there were many with powers over mind and mood and elements that lesser mortals would call magic. Such special gifts, I think, should not go to waste."

Elraen realized the wizard was unaware of her awakening. She wondered how much he did know, or at least suspected, and what he could be after. After a pause he continued.

"For very long have I studied and learned the lore of that over which we all have been quarreling. I have labored the longest to secure this most valuable weapon from its maker, I am the most learned of this thing, I am the most qualified to wield it. I can defeat our great enemy at long last, but I will need help, your help with your most formidable powers, to settle matters with these lowly foolish Men who mistakenly believe their fight is with me, and to retrieve this weapon before it falls into its Master's hands. With the Ring safely out of the Enemy's reach, you, most high lady, heir of the majestic race of Numenor, may manage the affairs of Men as best fits their custom from your seat on the southern throne."

The Princess was not unmoved, and might otherwise have found herself more easily persuaded by such cunningly wrought lies spoken by such a soothing and resonant voice. But something about his plea made her think of a speech she had once heard countless years ago by an old foe as he spoke to an audience of a king and his council, that only a few who now walked Middle-earth had ever known. As she listened, another more recent memory flashed into her mind, back to the council of Elrond when Boromir suggested putting the thing to use. She thought of his descent into despair all the way down the river, and his account of having 'become angry with Frodo'. He had become very obsessed over the Ring, Elraen now realized, overmuch so. Some end it brought him to, she thought, and this wizard, she already knew, was heading for a similar fate.

Still, fair words, uttered by an enchanting voice, a clever attempt to stay out of trouble. She wondered what to do next. Surely she could not cooperate, nor was there any use in feigning to do so. What would he do if she refused? Kill her? Keep her imprisoned? Present her to the Dark Lord to either curry favor or simply to buy more time for himself? The last course seemed the most likely. She wondered what she would do then if that happened. As tempting as it would be to resist the Enemy directly, that was against the rules, so she could not hope to be of much help that way.

She decided to reveal herself. So without words she replied, 'It's much too late for all that, Saruman, to try and convince me to help you. I know much more than you think I do, for I have seen far more than you can guess, from my brother's perch high up on the holy mountain. Besides you would know better than I where this thing is now. But, if you release me, and call off whatever wicked plans you have turning, I will forgive this transgression against me, and I can grant your passage home when this is over. Please, Saruman, I rescued you once before, let me help you again.'

Surprise and alarm washed visibly over the old man's face as the revelation sank in, followed by a flush of embarrassment and fear, as one who has discovered the mischief he thought hidden and private was in fact long marked by watchful eyes. For a fleeting moment his expression softened as he thought on her words, as if he was indeed tempted by the offer. But he resented her imperviousness to his efforts, and her pity toward him, and he hardened again. He let out a loud scornful laugh. "You think you are really so far above me, Princess?" he barked with disdain. "You are still vulnerable in this raiment in which you walk, which I have rescued from torment in Mordor, and this is the thanks I get in return. You take too much after that wandering fool you chose to follow, to your own demise. Is that all you have to say?"

Her gaze turned cool and stern, and for a long moment she was silent. "No," she replied aloud. She stepped forward and leaned toward him. "You killed Boromir," she spoke softly, "and you will pay."

She stepped back away from him again, and his stoic face was again betrayed a moment by a hint of fear.

"I am leaving now," she declared.

The wizard now quickly considered how to react. He was loath to release her, but feared to keep her also. The Princess was weaker in her mortal raiment, but he did not know by how much, nor did he wish to risk an even greater wrath of her kin back home; and he leaned against the risk of attempting to force her to stay. He also judged she would desire to head eastward to the challenge of Mordor, which would provide a useful distraction for his purposes. She may try to warn the King in Rohan, but even if he could be persuaded to listen to a strange little girl wandering his country alone, the wizard felt assured that any reaction would be sorely inadequate to face the armies he'd collected. And so, half feigning a look of reluctant concession as she walked away, he nodded to the guards to stand aside, and did not hinder her.

Elraen exited the tower, and walked as fast as she dared toward the gate through the crowd of the wizard's servants and soldiers busying about getting ready for the muster. She wondered indeed that the wizard had let her go so easily, but hurried along, thinking better of staying to learn why. Outside the walls she noticed an endless crowd of Orcs encamped. She did not look at them, and kept on walking off toward the south.

But, now what? Elraen had no idea if any of the rest of the company were even alive or where they might be. She decided the best direction would be Gondor, though what she could accomplish there she wasn't sure of, either. But she also thought she should probably stop to warn the Lord of the Mark, for Saruman's forces were mustering quickly.

Just then she heard the whinnying sound again, and perked up. That was no ordinary hill horse of Dunlandings! She let out a whistle, and heard a great neighing in response, closer. Then out of the woods she came, the great golden elf horse Anaraui. "Sunstreak!" she cried in a whisper. The majestic beast must have followed Shadowfax back to Rohan, perhaps then she wandered into the woods to avoid capture by the Rohirrim. She wondered if Shadowfax was about. "Come! We must now bear south!" Elraen jumped up into the saddle and off they bounded toward Edoras.


	22. Chapter 22

...

~ Homecoming ~

Elraen kept her cloak close about her to conceal her armor, and glimpsed at a distance friend or foe would see naught but a curious yellow horse flying across the plains. As she rode she thought of the vision in Galadriel's mirror of fields overrun with enemies under black skies and shadowy mountains in the distance. She wondered if the striking white embattlents must be Minas Tirith, as Boromir had once described it.

They kept going through the following day, until reaching the gates of the Golden Hall at sunset. She dismounted and cast back the hood of her cloak, leaving the great mare to rest in the fields.

"Declare yourself, child! The king's accepting few strangers to this land," said the guard when she approached, wondering what to make of this dark haired young girl strangely cloaked with her even stranger yet remarkable horse.

"I am no stranger," she replied in their tongue. "I am the foster daughter of the last ambassador of Gondor to Rohan, born and raised at his homestead out on the Western Marches."

He looked at her in wonder. "Very well," he said after a few moments in a grave tone. "But I'll warn you the king is friendly to few seeking help of late. He led her to the doors of the hall, where the door warden asked for her weapons. "I have none, sir, only empty scabbards. My weapons were lost when my company was attacked and I was taken." The warden looked at her in surprise and concern, but ushered her onward.

Before the King she knelt down with a bow of her head, rendering the customary courtesies. "I bring you urgent news, Lord Theoden." Briefly she told as much of her story as secrecy permitted, and some among the guard in the room shifted uneasily, for many parts of her tale confirmed the report of the now imprisoned Eomer. "Saruman is mustering a very great army, and his attack will come soon."

"And why should we believe you?" said the King's counselor. "A child, and a stranger, whose fathers were not of this land, come riding from the north?"

"I have seen it with mine own eyes," the girl replied indignantly. "For myself I would journey onward to the east to the land of my mother and father. But I came here first to warn you. I urge you call your muster, lord, and prepare at least for the defense of the city."

"Silence," spoke the king with a chilled firmness in his voice. "You have not been asked for counsel, child, nor would I trust to take it from you. My counselor asked a question. What do you know of war and battle strategy? And why should we believe you? Why would Saruman let his captive go? Whom do you serve?"

"I smell a spy in our midst, lord!" hissed the counselor. "I advise you hold her also along with your treacherous sister-son! Perhaps Mundberg would like to know of this royal of theirs, or imposter perhaps, meddling in our affairs."

"I am no spy!" she shot back, casting her cloak to her back. The armor of Galadriel and gold lined tunic shimmered wondrously in the firelight. Grim she now seemed indeed, standing so regally some almost wondered if she had really come to take charge of their kingdom for herself. "I am Elraen, daughter of Prince Tuor of the Royal House of Gondor! Saruman did not hold me because I would not serve him. For I serve only the Lords of the West." For a moment the high and wholesome air her foster father had once sensed could be felt throughout the room, and those who had been afield with Eomer were left with no doubt of her claim of kin to the royal line of Mundberg. Something about her air felt also strangely powerful, surpassing any description, and all in the room held still, inexplicably filled with a mix of veneration and fear, and looked to the King for his reaction.

She relaxed her stance again. "My Lord Theoden," she tried to continue, ignoring the counselor, "I intend to go onward to Gondor, to help as I can, if I can. But I was raised in safety in the mountain hills looking over these plains, amid the herdsmen and horse lords who guard these lands, and so thought first to stop here and warn you. Of battle strategy I know little. But I do know that you must act now. Would you have Rohan overrun by Orcs and its people slain or enslaved?"

The aged king looked at this young girl, pondering, as if he were now in doubt. She was but a child, but spoke as one with rank and responsibility.

Elraen glanced around the room. She was growing impatient, and, if the King wasn't going to listen, anxious to leave. A strong wind whistled wildly outside. It managed to breeze into the room through the windows and make the hearth fire and sconce candles dance up high.

The counselor gasped, and scurried back to sit by the throne. The lady standing by in the shadows looked on in surprise but did not move.

"My Lord!" the counselor continued in a low voice. "There is something very strange about her. Are we really to believe she persuaded such a powerful being as the White Wizard to let her go freely? She's an agent in his employ! It's a trap, I tell you!"

With that the king fell back under the counselor's spell, and in the end he resolved to detain her.

Elraen sighed softly and let her shoulders slump forward in defeat, as the guards led her away. 'Oh how I wish Gandalf were here!' she thought to herself. 'He had such an easy way of talking sense into people'. Her thoughts returned to the present. Now what? It would not do to force her way out. She now realized suddenly that she was also very tired, and figured she would wait until morning to decide.


	23. Chapter 23

...

~ Reunions ~

The next morning the four companions came riding up to Golden Hall out of the Old Forest. Elraen was resolved to go onward to Gondor one way or another. She'd walk up to the Black Gate alone if that was the best she could do. But going alone to Minas Tirith might end her up in a similar situation she was in now, imprisoned yet again, for the Steward there was told to be shrewd and sour and difficult to impress. And what help she could do there she was not sure of, either. But all roads in this war led to Gondor, so to there she must go.

But first, how to escape? The again imprisoned young wanderer had been awake since well before dawn, not that she could see the dawn, and pondered this a long while. The cellars were quite securely designed, and escape looked unlikely without a willing accomplice. She certainly could not try and persuade one of the wardens to disobey the king's orders on her account, and if she had any remaining companions how would they even find her here? Distress began to well up inside, and outside she could hear the muffled sounds of a grumbling thunderstorm approaching. The beleaguered little princess lay back down on the rough bed of straw, gazing at the ceiling in grief and defeat for a long time, as she thought on a very long stretch of ancient memories.

*.*.*

"Here also is Valandril the sword of one of our companions, my kin from the days of the downfall of Numenor," said Aragorn, pulling the short sword from wrappings of clothes and laying it near his own. "I bear it until I can return it to her, when I find her." The guard stared at it with wonder and, at catching the use of the word 'her', cast down his gaze in uncertainty, and gestured the Ranger onward with a little bow of his head. Aragorn read the trouble on his face, and wondered.

"And here also with my axe is another of her weapons, wrought ages ago by my ancestors like the sword of Aragorn here," said Gimli, placing it gently on the floor among the other weapons. The guard was in wonder at the sight of it, too, for it seemed a precious thing more ancient than even the declarations of royal lineage he'd heard over the past couple of days.

When at last Gandalf had broken the counselor's spell over the king, the Lord of the Mark sent for his sister-son, the imprisoned Eomer. Eomer received back his sword and as Hama went for Grima he said, "Should you like to call the maiden of Mundburg as well?"

"Aye me, yes!" cried the King. "The girl! Fetch her as well."

"The girl?" cried Gimli.

"She's here?" followed Legolas.

Aragorn let out a relieved sigh and Gandalf a little smile and a nod. "In prison?" added Aragorn.

"Yes I am afraid I have more forgiveness to seek. She arrived just last night bearing the same warning you did, but I could not be persuaded to listen," replied the king. "She has a strangeness that worked in favor of Grima. But now I see it is no more threat than any of you. Please bring me her sword if you will."

To this Aragorn consented. By the time the servants returned with her the counselor had already been outcast. The king returned her sword and shield which had been confiscated himself complete with a bow and apologies to the surprise of his court.

Elraen rejoiced in greeting her lost comrades, their leader not the least. In her mind she heard a voice speaking. 'I am very happy to see you, Your Highness,' it said, 'but what in the Circles of the World are you doing here?'

The princess' face turned grave as she glanced at the old man while the others greeted her and returned her other things. 'Mandos foresaw your doom,' she replied in silence. 'My brother was persuaded to let me come help you. The circumstances were his idea. Some help I've been, it turns out.'

'You have indeed,' the old man insisted. Then aloud he continued, "I have something for you also," presenting to her a new fine long grey leather pouch. "You have helped, more than you realize, just as I suspected you would."

She took it and gasped, for she could feel the contents inside, which she thought had perished in the heat of the balrog's flame. She lifted the flap quickly and a little glimmer flashed in the morning light. Of course not! Elraen smiled and fastened the pouch to her belt.

But then she took the wand out. "In that case," she said aloud with a low bow as she presented it to him, "I offer the service of this wand to you, Gandalf."

None looking on were unsurprised, even the old man himself. He smiled, and though quite uncomfortable with the idea of having a servant to command. He had no interest in imposing such an oath as was typically declared by a knight to his king. Still he was touched by the gesture, and thought upon the long ages of their crossed paths and fates intertwined, and of when he had once presented the thing to her, and the last words he spoke to her before departing his beloved home. He took the little silver rod, and handing it back replied, "Then we will ride on to the end, Lady, and face the Gates of Doom, together."

All stared in wonder at the exchange, not only at the sight of a maiden offering sworn service, with a strange little rod of silver in place of a sword, or that a wizard and no lord of Men was the chosen recipient. For in that moment though they could not have put words to it or even understand it, they could all feel it: a bond so old it was rooted in the birth of the world. It gave them a fresh cheer and a renewed hope.

The three other companions remembered Gandalf's words about her and wondered all the more. Word quickly spread about the curious royal child of Gondor: the wizard's apprentice.

From among the raiment of war brought out for the guests, Elraen picked out a very fair polished helm of strong steel ornamented and plumed with gold, along with a pair of matching gauntlets, small enough to perhaps have been once worn by some eager young prince. "That," said the king, "none now remember the story of how it came into our armory. It is thought to have been wrought in the north many generations ago before we removed here, and maybe by gift or inheritance through a royal of Dale it came to be among our people. But none have used it to our memory, for it matches not the uniform adopted long ago." They paired with her cuirass nicely.

Outside Shadowfax came dashing across the field with Sunstreak close behind. He slowed to a trot and they approached together.

"Aye, look, Legolas! The day rides with the night," said Gimli.

"Indeed!" replied the elf, as Elraen sprung up onto her horse and pulled up alongside them.

Elraen went with the host, riding by Legolas and Gimli, trading stories of the days following the attack by Rauros Falls. At one point on the slow ride Elraen asked Aragorn after the hobbits. "Gandalf seems to have an idea of where they are, Merry and Pippin," said Aragorn, "but only spoke in hints and riddles as is his wont. Indeed he seemed more worried over you than them. They are out of danger now, I would guess."


	24. Chapter 24

...

~ The Wizard's Apprentice ~

In the middle of the second day Gandalf came flying back to tell the host to make for Helms Deep. "What can I do, my friend?" she asked him.

"Go with Aragorn and the others," said the wizard. "Orcs seem to fear you; your presence may be helpful. And watch over him as you can," he said, nodding toward the Dunadan.

Elraen continued onward with the host into the Deeping Coomb. Within the Hornburg she stood upon the wall with Legolas and Gimli, waiting for the battle to arrive. A strange sight did they look to the Men of Westfold: a dwarf, an elf, and an odd dark-haired young maiden in breathtaking battle wear.

The night wore on and they caught glimpses of the massive host snaking its way into the Deep. For herself Elraen had felt her strength grow in bounds since that fateful day in Lorien. She took her wand in her hand and with her arms raised subtly, but to waist level, and closed her eyes to focus on the rain. She thought of the disappointment with Saruman, the loss of Gandalf deep beneath the peak of Celebdil, dwelling in gloom high in a lonely hilltop tower, and of the rains and the storms themselves. The sounds of a distant storm came rumbling in from the northwest.

Aragorn caught sight of this, and greatly curious turned to watch her a moment. Suddenly his attention caught by the crack of lightning nearby that tore down from the sky into the crowd below. He turned back and saw young Elraen had opened her eyes, and was staring out calmly at the night sky beyond. The odd young girl stood in focus, and the Ranger's attention was again turned by the deafening thunder that broke the silence, followed by a downpour of rain upon the masses of Orcs as the storm made its way over the Coomb.

The Ranger guessed she had some gift like the magicians of Numenor of old and the kingdoms in exile were rumored to have once had. But something in his heart told him what she wielded could be matched by no Numenorean even at the height of its power. He had sympathized with King Theoden's disbelief of her explanation of escaping captivity; but now he understood a little better. It was a reassuring thought that she had chosen to follow Gandalf and not one of the others.

At last after the first assault on the gate she let the storm move off and the clouds clear, and managed to bring a cool wind down from the north. Elraen then donned the gauntlets and helm, and moved along the wall toward the Gate to keep an eye on Aragorn and Eomer who were now fighting beyond it. She noticed fresh group of enemy archers had appeared, just as Gimli answered the Orcs who sprang up from the ground to return the attack from Eomer and Aragorn. "Legolas!" called Elraen to the Elf Prince, who was still upon the parapet, firing arrows upon the crowd, and had also made his way along the wall. He looked at her, and she nodded toward the battle unfolding by the Gate beyond, where he spotted the Orc archers in the distance taking aim at the two warriors. Before she could blink the Elf had loosed two arrows and struck them down. Then Gimli came to the rescue of Eomer and the fighters returned to within the walls.

Elraen remained long up on the wall, putting both her blades to use against the crowd of enemies spilling over the ramparts, felling several as they climbed over the wall.

She overheard Gimli note that too many men were defending the walls, and pulling bright shield out she followed the dwarf and elf to the culvert. Her elf sword flashed as they landed upon the ground, and the Orcs hesitated, for the sight of the sword and armor of the West alone gave them pause, and Gimli jumped at them and slew many. Moments later the men of Westfold poured out into the fray, and the Orcs at last were driven back for a time.

Not long later came the great blast upon the culvert, and all were again consumed with the fight, and she turned her attention to the half breeds attacking the warriors of Rohan, felling several more before they too kept their distance with the other ordinary Orcs.

Presently Elraen realized she had become separated from the dwarf and the others and was now alone. In the distance through the crowd of enemies she spotted Eomer and his men making their way to the caves. Guessing Aragorn to be in their midst she made her way toward the entrance. In the front of her mind she now thought of the fire itself, the fire she carried and wore to the sight of few, its sources and its stories and its secrets and her connection to it, and she kept up thoughts of ages past: the destruction of Almaren, rescuing the Maiar, the great host as they rode to challenge the Dark Lord of old. At this point to the Orcs the firelight looked larger and shined all the brighter - to their bewildered eyes the flame seemed to dim the sight of the world around, and the air around to the foul creatures felt burnt and poisoned, although this of course was still but an phantom-like echo of what she could wield when fully unveiled. The tense crowd of them cleared cautiously around her as she went along slowly, stepping carefully over the fallen, and they stood as if bespelled and could bring themselves to neither attack nor turn away. Occasionally a wild hillman or two, seeing nothing frightful but the dazzling armor gleaming, dared a jump into the circle against her, but she was skilled enough to counter them, and soon they also kept back with the crowd. Finally she found the great door to the caverns, only to find it had been shut fast.

The wizard's apprentice turned to face the swarm of enemies with her back to the door a few feet away. The Orcs further away began to retreat; the stouter ones heading back toward the northern end of the wall thinking there to pick up an easier fight, and the lesser ones simply running off in madness.

She gazed upon her foes, pondering now what to do. The wind blustered violently and more thunder boomed in the distance. On the chance that Aragorn was within the caves she decided for now at least to remain where she was, guarding the door, wondering if those inside were at all able to see out.

There was indeed a spy hole in the great door. From within Eomer noticed the assault on the door had quieted, and looked out to see. "My good Gimli!" he said, "Your maiden companion must be a mighty enchantress indeed! She is just outside the door surrounded, but the Orcs keep their distance and will not come near. She now shields their attack on the cave entrance."

"Aye, Lord Eomer," replied the dwarf. "The Elf tells me that he at times senses about her a veiled power so great he cannot guess at its measure." Gimli pulled up a chair to stand up and see through the view hole. "Ah, yes," he continued. "There is something those foul creatures seem to fear. The closest ones seem bewitched, the further ones are fleeing toward the northern end of the wall."

"That is helpful," replied Eomer, "for it is better manned there."

"No wonder the good wizard thought to bring her along!" answered Gimli.

"Indeed! They both bring me hope. Come, my good men!" he called to his comrades resting nearby. "Now is our chance. Poor soldiers will we make if we linger here idle while the lady stands alone outside. Let us regain the fight!"

The men began to mount back upon their horses. Just then the call of King Theodred blasted upon the great horn of the Burg, shaking the rocks and hills throughout the valley. "Forth, Eorlingas!" cried Eomer, and the gates of the cave were reopened.

Elraen heard the doors pulling to and jumped aside as the gate opened and the riders trampled and slashed down Orcs as they issued forth. Eomer paused before her, leading an unmanned horse alongside. "Miss Elraen!" called the dwarf sitting behind him. "Come along, lass! I do not know where your elf horse is, I'm afraid, but we have another for you."

The young lady stepped up sprightly and mounting the horse set off after them. As she rode along her mood calmed, and the flame died down. Elraen was disappointed to discover that Aragorn was not among those hid in the caves, but was heartened by the renewed spirit of the fighting soldiers. At last they made their way into view of the vale where the wizard was spied upon the distant ridge with the mighty Erkenbrand spilling over the hills as the dawn broke over them, leading the remaining riders of the Mark gathered from far afield, and the mysterious army of trees which appeared seemingly out of thin air.

Finally they caught up to Aragorn and King Theoden, and the fighting calmed. Here she dismounted, having spotted Sunstreak trotting along near Snowmane.

"I see your sword is stained, Lady Elraen. Did you tally a count, also?" asked Gimli as he and Legolas compared their numbers felled.

Elraen shook her head, "By sword seventeen only," she said. "There is no contest for me." She did not, of course, count those felled by the weather.

The dwarf laughed heartily. "Nay lady, your achievement need not be measured in enemies felled, perhaps rather enemies frightened! The Orcs seem to fear you at least as much as any wizard."

She smiled with a nod of her chin but said nothing in reply, and trotted on ahead.

At this Legolas was also quiet, recalling that as dawn began to break in the east a curious flash of flame from deep within the crowd of enemies had caught the corner of his eye from behind his position far back up high on the wall where he'd started the battle. Too bright it was to be any ordinary bonfire, it then died down and disappeared as the battle was turning while the sky quickly lightened. He had not been quite sure it wasn't some wizardry of Saruman's at work, but looked over at her a moment, wondering.

Eomer also looked on thoughtfully as he heard this conversation. As they trotted along he pondered the young girl and the strange scene he had witnessed before the gate of the caves. From deep within his childhood memories stories suddenly surfaced of the great Lord Bema, who gifted the first of the mearas to his ancestors long ago, and who was said to shine with the light of the sun and moon as did his horse. He remembered legends of the enemy's servants running and hiding from him as he passed.

*.*.*

After a day's rest they set forth, and Elraen trotted along after Gandalf easily through the strange trees, for she indeed remembered their kind and had no fear of them.

Onward they rode to the ford. Gandalf for his part seemed unaffected by the worried speculations of their comrades. After the surprises that had turned up this day, Elraen suspected the wizard had some idea of what lay ahead and that it was not dangerous.

Upon reaching the walls Sunstreak continued to trot along breezily behind Shadowfax. For herself Elraen was not unmoved by the gloom but had no fear of Saruman, but she could never have guessed to see what they found: the utter destruction and drowning of Isengard.

Elraen dismounted with the three hunters to join Merry and Pippin while the others went onward, to hear their tale and eventually gave a quick summation of hers, as much as discretion among the Wise would allow.

"Why did Saruman let me go so easy?" she said, responding to their questions. "Who can say for sure, I suppose he then judged I might be more useful upon the game board in his mind if free to roam as I would."

Aragorn and Legolas looked at her quietly. "It's not hard to think why, lass!" replied Gimli. "Though I imagine he had more in mind your distracting the Orcs of Moria and Mordor rather than his."

"Perhaps," she said softly, smiling in reply.

At last they proceeded back toward the doors of Orthanc. The Princess still held some hope that Gandalf would fare better at persuading Saruman to finally abandon his lost cause. She remained behind at the bottom of the steps, seated upon Sunstreak aside Shadowfax and Theoden's captains, listening Saruman's final pleas.

The defeated wizard turned his attention and exerted his efforts on Gandalf, expressing regret at losing patience with both him and with the her. "The Princess could not be persuaded to wisdom, but perhaps you still might? Will you not come up?"

And the captains nearby looked over at Elraen in new wonder, for those who had been at Edoras when she arrived alone days earlier then understood that their foe was referring to her, and that all she had claimed in the hall of the king indeed was all too true.

At last it all ended and they headed back out the gate. When he introduced them all to Treebeard he came to Elraen. He looked at her a long time, and it seemed to those standing near that the wind whistled peculiarly through the trees, almost as if playing a tune with the leaves and grass and water. Treebeard squinted his eyes, as if it were a tune that stirred some deep buried memory. The Ents together remembered a vision of an ancient forest under the light of the stars, their old forest in a forgotten time beyond the measure of years. Treebeard looked at her long in curiosity. "Hrmmm, hroom, Princess, it is my honor to meet you," he said slowly and thoughtfully, and gave a bow.

Later came Pippin's incident with the palantir. Elraen stooped down to reach for it, but as her hand came near she could feel the enemy's power through it, before even grasping it. So she stood over the covered palantir where it lay until Gandalf turned his attention back to it. He paused and looked at her inquisitively. "I dare not touch it," she said to him. "He would sense me I think."

The wizard looked at her gravely and thoughtfully a moment, then retrieved it and handed it to Aragorn. Suddenly she felt a fell and remote chill creep up on her from afar. She clasped Gandalf's arm in alarm, and soon the Enemy servant came flying overhead. Gandalf roused everyone to keep moving. "I think you had better come with me this time," he paused to say to her before he went to get Pippin. "Where Aragorn must go your presence may be of use when Men's hearts quiver, but less so for what he needs to do. Go on ahead and keep to the road toward Minas Tirith," he said to her. "I must try to first stop at Edoras, then I will catch up to you. Rest off the side of the road by day!"


	25. Chapter 25

...

Part Five

~ Road to the End ~

To Gondor at last. Elraen had bid a brief farewell to the others, and she rode off, alone just as she had started. Eastward she sped under clear starry skies through the cool air of the waning winter, with the snowy White Mountains rising up along her right, watching the sun rise red before her each morning. The road soon became empty, but she kept her cloak on, and rode only at night as Gandalf had advised. Fortunately she could yet cover much ground as daylight was still short, and would rest only a few hours during the peak of the day. She would place a stone in the road so her companions would know where she lay hid for the day.

Elraen reached the deep shade of the Firien Woods just after dawn on the third morning. It was a wholesome place, she knew, a tiny remnant of the vast forests that she herself once wandered in guardianship countless ages ago. She had a thought to stop and visit the summit, a hallowed place still blessed by the grace of her people. She wondered if she might stand upon it and feel the presence of the brethren she missed. But her young mortal heart found something about the woods a little unnerving, and she had no desire to stop there alone, and so continued on until she crossed the bridge over the Mering Stream early in the afternoon. She discovered she had come within sight of the peak of Calenhad, and it was here that the wizard and the hobbit at last caught up to her. They camped only until late afternoon when Gandalf woke them to head onward, and they set out through Anorien together. Gandalf now slowed Shadowfax's pace but kept going into the next day and through the following night, and they reached the wall just before dawn.

"The lady here I will vouch for also, for here is a child of Gondor," he explained to the guard, and the princess pulled back the hood of her cloak. "Elraen daughter of Prince Tuor of Pelargir and South Ithilien, and foster daughter of Lord Artamir the last ambassador to Rohan. She rides with me." The gate guards then looked at them again in new wonder.

She ended up with someone to vouch for her after all, she thought to herself. "Greetings, Master Ingold," she said with a nod, as he bid them pass at last. "Long have I desired to look upon the land of my mother and father. By all descriptions the Tower of the Sun brooks no rival in Middle-earth for beauty and grandeur."

His face brightened. "Indeed, lady! So it is said. I think you will not be disappointed. Please, proceed."


	26. Chapter 26

...

~ Sidetracks ~

"A girl there was also, who came along with the Company at Gandalf's request," added Frodo.

A light murmur rose over the group. "A girl?" asked the Captain in surprise.

"Yes, she was the youngest of all of us, and said little. But something about her seemed very old in a way," replied Frodo. "Gandalf thought she would have a role to play, and indeed she did in the mines. An enchanted rod of silver she carried became the balrog's bane, weakening him enough to allow Gandalf to best the battle. Elraen was her name, daughter of a Lieutenant of Southern Gondor."

Later at Henneth Annun, Frodo told more about the rest of the company as much as he could, trying his best to avoid mentioning the Ring or more of his parting moments with Boromir.

"The young lady Elraen is also an heir of Elendil," he continued, after telling more of Aragorn, "descended from King Anarion, though in a less direct line than Aragorn is from Isildur. I heard her mention to Boromir once that her foster father was also descended from the Steward Mardil. She also carried an heirloom sword, old and elf-wrought though of less ancientry than the sword of Elendil. She seemed a mix of many things: a bit Dunedan, a bit elf, a bit wizard, a bit young mortal maid child. The elf with us, Legolas, once said he sensed something strange about her, as if she carried with her the spirit of the world itself, the joy and grief of the wind and the rocks and the rain. But she was a stalwart companion through march and battle, even thwarting the Orc-chief's attack on Boromir."

The men in the room shifted a bit, with no small amount of bewilderment on their faces at the thought of a small girl aiding the mighty Boromir in battle. Faramir's face softened. His curiosity piqued at such a description, and he knew of the short sword from his studies as a child. It had been long thought to have perished with King Earnur when he was captured by the Witch King. "I hope then that the remaining of your company are still alive and that I may meet them soon," he said.


	27. Chapter 27

...

~ The Citadel ~

Gandalf introduced Elraen after Pippin as among those who'd been with Boromir in his final moments. Elraen stood listening to the questioning of the young hobbit, having carefully wrapped her Elf cloak over her armor and weaponry. "No help came. Only more Orcs. Save the young lady here," Pippin gestured toward her, "but she was subdued and captured also," he said as he gave his story to the Steward.

After the hobbit offered his sword, the Steward turned his attention to her. "And you, girl?" he asked, though his tone had now softened somewhat, "Why is it that you live and my son did not? How did you survive a poisoned dart? Whom do you serve?"

The young princess took less offense to the implication of the questions than did the hobbit, her thoughts consumed with her last memory of Boromir during Pippin's telling of the story. A pained and grieved look fell over her face, which the Steward noticed readily.

"It was not poisoned, Sir," she replied softly. "it was laden with a sleeping spell of Saruman's. Our captors were under orders to deliver me alive," she answered. "But Saruman could not sway me into his employ, and so then calculated some value in releasing me; I could not say why, for I serve only," she said, then after a quick pause, "the Lords of the West." It was true enough, albeit indirectly, at the moment.

He glanced thoughtfully at the wizard then back at her. "Ah," he said, "one of the faithful. I envy your devotion. Would that some of our ancestors had as much." He watched her face carefully, seeing it too melancholy to let through much resentment, and she held his gaze calmly. Then curiously the stern questioning seemed to meet an abrupt end.

Elraen then remembered the pendant, and reached into her pocket, relieved he did not ask further about why she was captured and grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. "Lord Steward, ere we were parted, Boromir your son handed me this," she said, pulling the medallion out and presenting it to him. "I think he meant for me to return it to his family."

The stoic Steward could not suppress his surprise, and a wave of softness passed over him. Even Gandalf was surprised, for it was the first he'd heard of it.

"Keep that for now, child," he struggled to say after gazing at it a long moment, "you may present it to my younger son in his grief." Then he gave his first order to Pippin for more storytelling. For herself Elraen was spared much of the questioning, being but a young maiden, and one who, like his remaining son, the Steward correctly perceived, was a faithful student of the wizard.

She was given quarters near to those for Pippin and Gandalf. "Take a few hours for such rest and refreshment as you can find," said Gandalf, "but I may have need of you soon."

Elraen washed up and laid down for an overdue rest in a real bed, but slept only a few hours when the air of fear fell upon the city from some distant height. Her eyes shot open and she sprung out of bed, but then it passed. She let out a sigh and her shoulders relaxed, but she could find no further sleep. She was splashing some water on her face when there was a knock on the door.

"Please, if you will, go down to Osgiliath and search for Faramir," said Gandalf when she answered it. "If you find him, please tell him my counsel to return to the city as soon as possible. The skies in the East are churning in an angry hurry; a great assault will likely be unleashed sooner than later, I think, and he will be more needed here." Gandalf stepped away but then turned and added, "If he cannot be persuaded to return, then remain with him and have a mind for his safety."

Twenty minutes later Sunstreak was crossing the Pelennor Fields, and when Pippin went again to visit Shadowfax he found the horse's lone stable companion no longer there.

As she rode along Elraen thought of the wizard's words about the brewing battle, and wondered if he had seen the same battle scene in the Lady's mirror that she had.

She reached Osgiliath late into the evening but could find no news of Faramir. "Mithrandir has returned," Elraen said to the curious guards after introducing herself. "He asked me to come in search of Captain Faramir."

The guards looked at her, wondering at such a young girl so strangely riding about alone. Just then soldiers came riding out of the north and she got her answer. Faramir had sent them hither and headed for the city. "And back we go, Sunstreak!"


	28. Chapter 28

...

~ More Meetings ~

The Captain and his men raced southward across the last stretch, as the winged steeds came at them, swooping down and lifting up again. Not far from the city gate all but one were thrown from their panicked horses. The leader among them turned to help round up the rest.

Elraen spied this scene unfolding as she approached the gate from the east. She donned the rest of her armor and pulled her sword, and spurred Sunstreak to a sprint, as the creatures swooped ever closer. She reached the scattered group of soldiers and turned her great horse about, raising her shield. The creature nearly crashed into her, scraping at the shield before backing away again. Swiftly she stood up in the stirrups and swung her sword at its feet, but a moment too late.

Elraen looked up at the Lieutenant flying above, and he looked at her, and despite the helmet concealing her face he nevertheless seemed to remember their last encounter. His dimmed wraith view saw now naught but eyes gleaming softly. The foes hovered up above, as if calculating whether to dare getting much closer. Elraen focused on the wand fastened under her sleeve, and slowly raised her arms, sword still in hand. A stiff breeze began to blow upward against the beasts' wings from below, lifting them slowly, and they struggled against it, as the thrown men scrambled back on their feet and searched for their horses. The enemies began an attempt to dodge the wind and dive at them once more, when out came Gandalf, waving his glittering staff, and Elraen's elf sword seemed to catch the light and glow in her hand, and with the stab of his ray of light the Riders in the air at last gave way and flapped off.

At last there was a moment of calm upon the field, and Elraen removed her helm and began tucking away her sword and shield. The Captain went over to Gandalf as his men gathered themselves back up, and soon noticed the curious rider who had suddenly appeared on the field just in time to help thwart the attack, along with the wizard. He was silent a moment, seeing closely now that the mysterious stranger was but a very young maiden, rather fair but shorter than most Dunedain, but in such striking armor and attire she looked more like a princeling squire of the Noldor had just stepped out of the Elder Days. "And you must be the Lady Elraen," he said.

She looked at him in surprise, then realized that by now he could have heard of her from any number of sources. "Lord Faramir," she replied with a bow of her head, "it is my honor."

"Come along now! Let us get inside," urged Gandalf, and they headed up toward the hall of Denethor. Elraen followed behind Gandalf and Faramir to the hall of the Steward. At the Citadel they dismounted, where at the door to the hall Faramir had noticed in surprise the young hobbit Peregrin as they entered.

Elraen stood near the wizard in his chair, and Pippin wondered at how unweary she looked for such a trial as he saw them all endure out on the field, for the Captain looked so weary Pippin wondered if he was taking ill. The heated discussion between the Steward and the wizard spun around again. "And you, girl, you had my son's attention," the lord said, turning to her. "What say you?"

She looked over surprised and confused. Attention? What did he mean by that? Elraen thought back on the journey, remembering the last moment when he handed her the medallion. She was suddenly feeling abashed, and wondered if she was blushing.

Faramir was taken off guard. Any choice at all would be a surprise for the brother he remembered, let alone one so young. But thinking back on her display out on the field, it wasn't hard to see why, on the surface at least, for though but a young maiden she had some battlefield courage and hardiness, not surprising considering her upbringing in Rohan. And, remembering his father's pressure upon his brother to find a bride, he also understood that she was now known to be the highest ranking maiden among what little remained of the Royal House. That would be a less surprising factor in his brother's thoughts on such a subject.

"Well, Lord Denethor," Elraen began slowly, feeling suddenly a little flustered. She thought back to the Council of Elrond. "From the start Boromir stated his belief that this thing should be used and not hidden or destroyed. The Wise all feared to take it for any reason, but Boromir had no such fear, even when he should have. But, I think, he was humbled in the end."

A silence fell over the room for a long moment. Faramir looked at her curiously, for her words indeed sounded heavy with long years as Frodo had described. As she spoke he strangely found himself feeling a bit cheerier and a little less weary for the moment. Something about her fair but grim speech made him wish to meet the Elves of whom Frodo had spoken. Beneath the surface he could see a humility that lacked ambition, dutiful but thoughtful, which made him think of the prestigious watch guards of the Citadel. She stood by the wizard solemn and grave, yet with a curiously calm and light quality to her manner, as though somehow in her brief past she had been through far worse than the terror and gloom now assaulting the city. An image flashed in his mind of the royals of old Numenor in their might and majesty, more so the early kings and queens in their joy and contentment, and how they must have looked on their thrones. The son of the Steward wondered how the heir of Isildur might impress him when he came.

As he thought about the strange wind on the field to which she seemed to have some connection, Faramir wondered if she could be related to the wizard somehow. 'An absurd idea,' he thought to himself with a shake of his head.

The Steward brushed it off. "Bah!" he hissed dismissively. "More wizard's words!" Elraen gazed down at the floor in defeat, and grief for all that had occurred from Rauros Falls to the present moment was clear on her face, and the argument between the two old men continued.

Afterward she caught up to the steward's new heir. "Lord Faramir, would you grant me a moment?"

He paused and looked at her inquisitively.

"I have something for you. Your brother handed it to me ere we were parted," she said, reaching into her tunic pocket. She pulled out the pendant on its chain and held it out to him. "Your father would not take it. He seemed to think you would prefer it."

He paused in surprise at the sight of it, and his face softened. He reached out and held it a long moment. "It was our mother's," he said, barely above a whisper. "I didn't realize he carried this."

"Boromir was an ambitious and feisty boy," he continued after pausing to gaze at it, "delighting only in stories of war and victory in battle. So our mother would tell stories of the seafaring captains of Gondor who would bring the fight to the men of the far south. This pendant is a tribute to the parents of Elros, and the seal of Dol Amroth, where descendants of Gondor's great captains still live. It is an heirloom of her father's house, and a symbol of the might and glory of Gondor at the height of its power."

Such a gift at such a moment would have come from a more genuine place than simply ambition for more status and power, Faramir thought to himself. His brother must have indeed been humbled in his last breath, after all. He stepped forward and lifting it over her head to hang it about her neck he continued, "You see, he could have given you any number of tokens of the Steward's house to return to us. Nay! He gave this to you, because he wanted you to have it."

Elraen looked up at him speechless, and lifting the medallion gazed down at it in her hand, surprised and touched and her grief renewed. She had found Boromir a fair and valiant man, who, until the end at least, had always behaved honorably. She had pity for the Mortals, and judged not Boromir's misgivings over the decisions of the council, and had borne his loss heavily.

"May I see it?" he asked, changing the subject. "The sword, that is."

She gave a sigh and a sad smile and unhooked the sword to hand it to him.

"It has long been anyone's guess what became of this," he said looking it over in wonder. He pulled it out, and he could tell just by the look of the blade that this was no forgery. He resheathed it and skimmed the names listed on the scabbard. "The Princess Miriel, of course," he uttered in near a whisper. So there was indeed another that could have asserted a claim after Earnur's death. Gondor had never accepted inheritance of rule to women, but he knew well, however Miriel had also married a descendant of the brother of an earlier king. This heir standing before him now was again another daughter, still her claim was better than any he had yet heard of, among the families in the South at least.

"Your ancestors kept it well," he said quietly as he handed it back. "I am greatly curious to meet the other heir, as well."

"Yes," she replied softly, "he is the finest and best of men. He will make a good king."

*.*.*

A short while later she stopped by Gandalf and Pippin's quarters to confer with them. "Your words were kind yet true," said Gandalf when she entered during their conversation about Frodo. "But both father and son I fear are the proud sort more vulnerable to traps of the enemy, in spite of best efforts and intentions."

She sighed. "Yes, I think you are right."

"Cirith Ungol!" said Gandalf in distress. "Why there?"

"What is your fear over this place?" she asked.

The wizard looked at her, guessing that if he told her what worried him she would become most anxious to head there straight away to deal with it herself, and help the ring bearer through the Dark Land as she had proposed weeks ago. He found that idea not without merit, but couldn't chance her drawing attention to where they least wanted it.

He shook his head. "Naught to be done for it now," he said. "We must now do our best from here," and finished his conversation with Pippin.

Elraen wondered what he meant by all of it. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "How could Lord Denethor possibly know so much already?" she asked, changing the subject.

"There could be many ways. He could be receiving messages, or be like some of the men of Westernesse of old who had the gift of very far sight." But Gandalf already suspected but feared the answer, but spoke no further on that, either.

Later that day the wizard was able to introduce her to Prince Imrahil. "I remember rumor of your father at least, who would have been but a young man at the time. And I do remember some encounters with the mixed peoples of South Ithilien, who were for the most part wiped away, slain or scattered, I'm afraid. Your foster father's fears were understandable, but may have been excessive, I think," he said to her. "Though I admit I cannot say for sure. Any heirs to the royal line would have been quite vulnerable in territory as contested as the region around Pelargir. Lord Artamir seems to have done well in any case."

The lost heiress wondered how things might have turned out had she been raised among kin in Gondor. She supposed everything turned out as it was meant to.

*.*.*

In the morning hour after the Council meeting Gandalf came to her door again and asked her to follow Faramir to Osgiliath and keep watch over him and his forces there. "For we need only to keep the enemy distracted as long as possible, and for that we need not waste very many lives," said Gandalf. For her part though she found the Steward's new heir worthy of protection she still wondered if the wizard could simply think of no other way to make use of her. However she also remembered other such requests through the ages from the Lord of the Waters, and the King himself Lord of the Winds, and the Queen of Light, and others, and remembered these were such tasks that had defined her long history. Taking her elf horse from the stables once more she dashed away toward the river.


End file.
